Under the Setting Sun
by Janerey
Summary: A/U Modern day. Katniss and her family go to California for her mother's new job where she runs into a familiar stranger. Even though there is no 'Hunger Games' in this story, it still has some of the original elements and characters with a focus on the underlying love story.
1. Chapter 1: Moving On

_**Author's Note: **__ Hi, I'm fairly new to the Hunger Games fandom. I just got into them after I'd finished the trilogy when the movie first came out. This is my first Hunger Games fan fic, so please bear with me! To all my Ugly Betty readers (if you've made it this far), I'll get back to that eventually. I just REALLY wanted to try out my current fandom obsession._

* * *

_Chapter 1: Moving On_

"Mom, I still don't see why Prim and I can't just stay here while you work in California for the summer. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of us both," I protested then added under my breath, "Been doing it for years."

My mother paused her packing and raised her eyebrows in response to my not so subtle remark. She eventually drops her glare in surrender knowing it's a lost cause seeing as though it was actually quite accurate.

My father passed away from lung cancer five years ago when I was just eleven and Prim, my younger sister, was seven. He wasn't a regular smoker. It was just an occupational hazard from working in the automobile factory for so many years and being exposed to the asbestos. After his death, our family received a small settlement from the company, but with his funeral costs and the lack of income, the money quickly depleted. It's not that my mother didn't have the qualifications to get a job. She was actually a traveling nurse prior to her assignment here in Michigan where she met my father and married shortly thereafter. After she had me, they both decided it was best for her to be a stay-at-home mom. She could have easily gotten a job at one of the local hospitals or, at the very least, asked for some financial help from our estranged grandparents who I know to be pretty well off, but my father's death was too much for her to bear. She had completely shut down.

At eleven years old, I wasn't equipped to understand or aid with my mother's grief. All I could do was watch her go about her days like a zombie. It was hardest on Prim. She was so young and helpless. She didn't even know how to prepare her own food or even bathe herself correctly. I took it upon myself to care for her, but even I knew that at some point, the canned ravioli and the sour milk would eventually run out and when it did, there would be little I could do to help Prim anymore.

One day, as I was changing Prim's soiled linens, I found a few hundred dollars my mother had kept under the mattress, left over from the settlement. I managed to ration it out for a couple months of food, riding my bike to the grocery store and back. I knew that the money wouldn't last much longer if my mother wasn't going to snap out of her haze anytime soon. Thankfully, the store clerk took notice of my bike and asked if I'd be interested in delivering newspapers. He even called his brother-in-law at the printing press for me to see if he could give me a paper route.

The next day, I got up at 4:30 in the morning to collect my supply of newspapers and my route assignment. That's where I met Gale. He was another paper boy who was trying to help out his family of five. His father had died of drug overdose earlier that year. Even though his mother was stronger than my own, they had a few more mouths to feed, so at thirteen, Gale took on several odd jobs to contribute. He was in charge of delivering papers to the houses across the street from those I was assigned to, so he'd keep pace with me, chatting away until sunrise, annoying the heck out of me. It wasn't until he missed his route one morning due to the flu, did I realize how much comfort I took in having his company and his stories to entertain me.

From then on, we teamed up for just about every job we tried to support our families – walking dogs, babysitting, mowing lawns, cleaning garages. The last of which was especially fruitful since we'd usually make out with some payment _and_ a few unneeded items that we were able to pawn off for a little extra cash. The biggest treasure was a box of old baseball cards the owner outgrew. Little did he know he had a collection worth over $1200. Split up, it fed our families for over four months.

When our landlord started knocking on our door, demanding back rent she had kindly overlooked due to the circumstances she knew we were in, I knew that the meager earnings I was getting from these juvenile chores would not sustain us. I began taking some of our own belongings and pawning them off, starting with the frivolous possessions like the television and blender and eventually working my way through the sentimental items like my father's guitar and wedding ring. The latter seemed to have sent my mother deeper into her depression.

This desperate routine carried on for just over a year, surprisingly. There were times I was sure we were going to go without any food or a roof over our heads had it not been for some outside intervention. It wasn't until our next door neighbor came to our door screaming and crying for help for her elderly father who was having a heart attack did my mother finally shows some sign of cognizance. It was like she was suddenly broken from her hypnotic trance. I hadn't seen her move so quickly in months. Prim and I followed behind her as she rushed down the hall of our apartment building to aid the gentleman who was now lying unconscious on the floor. The woman who had called us for help was now keeled over on the floor beside him, crying hysterically. My mother shouted for me to call 911, but I was frozen in the doorway in shock of both the life that had drained from this man and the life that had suddenly filled the woman I had been living with. I barely felt Prim push me aside and run to the phone hanging on the wall. I wasn't even sure of what she was saying to whoever responded on the other end of the line. I simply stood by and watched as my mother took turns breathing into his mouth and pressing his chest until paramedics arrived.

I would never wish for such an ordeal to happen to anyone. Thanks to my mother, the man did survive. But more importantly to me, _we_ survived as a result of what transpired, so I can't help but be grateful that he needed her help that day. Shortly thereafter, my mother decided to try nursing again to get us back on our feet. It took some time for her to get regular assignments, so I continued to do the odd jobs with Gale. Besides, I was still skeptical of how long my mother's motivation would last. I didn't trust her to take care of Prim and me anymore.

Our relationship was never the same after that first year following my father's death. I had to toughen up and grow up faster than I was ready to. The mother I had to nurture me no longer existed. I was angry at her. Not just for failing to take care of us, but for not allowing Prim or me the opportunity to grieve our father's passing. We didn't have time or energy to think about him or mourn him. We simply channeled all that we had into just surviving. My mother had taken it all for herself. For that, I wasn't sure I'd ever forgive her.

"Sweetie, we've already talked about this. I've already explained to you that this nursing assignment will be different from the others. California is the furthest away, for one thing, and it's three _months_ not just three weeks. I can't leave you and Prim here alone for that long," she reiterated.

"Well, you've – " I began before she held her hand up to silence my exhausted argument.

"I _know, _Katniss. You can't use that against me forever. I've been doing my best to support this family for the past four years," her tone was stern and I could tell she was trying to hold back her frustration with me. She softened her gaze and her volume. "I can't ask you to forgive me for what I did after your father died, but all I can ask is that you _please_ let me do my job now."

There was nothing more I could say to sway her, so I simply sat there on our dining room chair sulking in the thick tension that filled the air. Just then Prim, with her impeccable timing, pirouetted into the room clad in her new red polka dotted bathing suit and a duck float adorning her waist.

"Ta-daaa! What do you think?" Prim fluttered her long, blonde eyelashes at us.

"Adorable as always, Little Duck!" I admired the innocent twinkle in her eyes. When I was her age, I was carrying the weight of the world – at the very least, the weight of our family's survival. It was my life's purpose to ensure that Prim would never have to bear that same burden, so it brought me a sense of pride to see her indulging in what little childhood she had left.

"This is going to be the best summer ever! I can't wait to go to California! I'm gonna go swimming every day, build sandcastles, learn how to surf…"

"Whoa, Prim! Who said you're allowed to go surfing? I don't recall giving you permission to surf!" Mother interjected.

Prim looked at me for back up.

"Don't worry. I'm sure we'll do plenty of _channel_ surfing every day. It'll be a blast!" I said sarcastically. "I'm going to Gale's. I'll be back before dinner."

"Katniss, would you mind stopping by the store and getting some spaghetti noodles?" I heard my mother call out to me as I grabbed my house keys off the wall.

"Mm-hmm!" I replied dismissively then disappeared out the door.

* * *

"It just sucks that it's our last summer before you go off to college and we won't even get to spend it together," I whined as I handed Gale the screwdriver.

He slid out from under the old, beat up truck that was constantly in need of repair. "Hey, who said I was going to college? I don't know if Mom's going to get by without me around." Gale grabbed a rag to wipe the grease from his hands. "Besides, I haven't heard back from any of them yet."

"Gale, you're gonna hear from them. And I'm certain one of the schools will even give you a football scholarship. You had enough scouts come out to watch you, you could've started selling cookies," I reassured him.

He shrugged indifferently knowing that, around here, kids rarely went off to college. Gale, however, had the extra burden of taking care of his family and leaving to go to college would definitely put extra pressure on his mother to provide for the other three kids.

"I want to. Catnip, I want to go so bad," he said quietly. My endearing nickname came out like a desperate plea. I knew that it made him feel guilty to _want_ to leave his family behind, but even his mother wanted him to have the rare opportunity. "I just can't."

It took every ounce of faux perkiness I could muster to give him the encouragement I knew he so badly needed to hear.

"Gale, you can. And you will. You'll get a full ride somewhere, get a degree in Business or something, get drafted by the Lions, and buy your mom a freakin' mansion somewhere!" I looked boldly into his grey eyes, holding on tightly to his arms and countering the tension of his biceps with the grip of my fingers.

"And what will my family do for four years in the mean time?" He stared back down at me and I could see the years of worry he has put on. Gale just recently turned eighteen, but one would think by his troubled expressions, he was in his twenties.

His brother, Rory, rode up on his bike, dropping it unceremoniously on the front step of the house. He nodded a curt 'what's up' to me before tossing a baseball to his older brother and heading into the house with nonchalance. Rory was just a year behind me in school, but like Prim, he was able to hold on to his childhood innocence a little longer thanks to his older sibling.

"Rory's fifteen. Old enough to get a job – a real job. He's old enough to step up and take on some of the responsibility." We both laughed at the vision of his brother, the poster boy for teen stereotypes, wearing a uniform and keeping an actual job.

Gale ran his calloused fingers through his dark, shaggy hair. "So what are you gonna do all summer? Lay around in a bikini, drinking virgin piña coladas, and reading Danielle Steele novels?"

I winced at the image he created. "Nice segue, Hawthorne." He flashed one of his half-smiles. "Well, on that note, I'd better get going. I have to stop by the store for my mom and I haven't even finished packing my things."

"Will you guys be needing a ride to the airport in the morning?" Gale offered hopefully.

"I think my mom was planning on getting a cab to take us, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind you taking us instead. I know _I'd_ prefer it." I untied my jacket from my waist and slipped it on to shield myself from the brisk air that was settling in as the sun began to set.

"Then I will be at your doorstep, bright and early." My body froze as Gale's expression became one I had never seen in the course of our five year friendship. His hands reached back behind my neck as he gently freed my braid from the collar of my jacket. I swallowed hard in anticipation of what he might do or say next. And even then, nothing could prepare me for it.

* * *

"Gale, thank you so much for the ride. It was very generous of you." My mother gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze after he'd unloaded our luggage from the back of the truck. "Please give your mother my regards. I wish I had a chance to at least have a cup of coffee with her before we left, but she's been so busy."

"Yeah, peak season for the hotel. Lots of beds to make!" Gale replied.

My mother took Prim and their suitcases to go check into our flight. Gale and I stood awkwardly in front of each other.

"So…"

"So…" I repeated.

"I'm really sorry about last night," he began. "I shouldn't ha –"

I shook my head to interrupt him. "Don't worry about it. It was nothing." I could tell by the crestfallen look on his face that it was, in fact, _something_ to him. I felt compelled to say something to make things right between us before I left. "Gale, I'd be lying if I said I never wondered what it would be like… me and you. But now is definitely not the time to figure that out."

He nodded reluctantly. I pulled him into a tight and lingering embrace.

"Take care, Catnip. Don't be a stranger, alright?"

I could hear Prim calling for me to hurry.

"I'll call you!" I backed away from Gale, waving my hand one last time before I turned to move on to my next adventure.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I'll be honest. I don't really know where I'm taking this story. All I knew was that I wanted to write something in the modern day setting. I just kept overthinking it and every idea I came up with, I'd try to search and sure enough, it'd been done. So finally, I gave up planning and just wrote whatever came out. I really, really hope I'm not ripping anyone off! So please review and give me your feeback! Not only does it encourage me to keep going, but it helps me sort my thoughts. I know there's probably not much to say about this introductory chapter, but any amount of cheerleading helps!_


	2. Chapter 2: Strangers in a Strange Land

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters. I just put them into a time machine so I can play with them here.

* * *

_**Chapter 2: Strangers in a Strange Land**_

"Kaaat-niiiiss," I could barely register the hushed voice singing into my ear. Assuming it was just the voice of the disembodied smile that was haunting my disturbing dream, I chose to ignore it. "Katniss!" the persistent voice repeated, now hissing at me. After I had continued to disregard it, I felt a shove – a very real shove – and woke up with a start.

"Prim! What is the matter with you?" I scowled at her, wiping my slimy, saliva-coated cheek on my t-shirt sleeve. As much as I wanted to savor our very first plane ride, the turbulence had put me on edge and gave me a terrible headache. After the lady in front of me turned for the third time to give me a dirty look for shaking her seat with my nervous leg twitch, my mother finally suggested I try to sleep off the rest of the trip. She even went as far as to provide me with a Benadryl to sedate me.

Unaffected by my foul mood, Prim's eyes glowed bright as she peeked out the oval window and pointed downward. "Look! We're here."

I leaned over her to get a better view out the tiny window. The plane continued to descend, allowing visual access to the blue expanse beyond the puffs of clouds, but this blue was not the uniformed sky we had been staring at for two hours (before I fell asleep for the following four); this blue rippled and undulated until it met the sandy edge of the land. The plane was turning over the water, heading back over the land towards the airport.

The sick feeling I had earlier was starting to come back to me as the plane continued its gradual slope downward. I swallowed hard to attempt to push down the lump that had formed in my throat. My ears were abruptly bombarded with the loud whirring of the plane's engine, the rattle of the baggages in the overhead compartments, and Prim's squeals of delight. Something about palm trees.

The plane finally touched down on the tarmac with a rough jolt, enough to cause me to grip my mother's hand so hard, I left indentations where my nails had planted themselves. She didn't seem to be bothered by the sudden death grip I had placed on her body. In fact, she seemed somewhat _pleased_ that I actually made physical contact with her. I hated to give her that satisfaction, but I was feeling so distressed, I couldn't find control of the proper muscles to let go.

As soon as the plane slowed down and began its casual taxi down the runway, I immediately broke contact with her and busied myself with staring out the window. It wasn't long before the cabin filled with the sounds of passengers on their cell phones, telling whoever was on the other end that they had arrived in Los Angeles safely. Some were arranging meeting areas, others were already missing those they left behind. I couldn't help but wonder if Gale was back home, waiting by his phone for me to call him and let him know we'd arrived. Thankfully, no one in my family owned a cell phone, so I was excused for the time being.

This feeling I was having towards Gale was so foreign to me. We'd always had a very open and comfortable friendship. There were no secrets between us… at least I didn't think there was. But whatever was going through his mind that motivated him to kiss me was completely unknown to me. Now, after one 2-second gesture, I began feeling nervous – my stomach churned, my heart raced, my cheeks flushed – at the very thought of him. And I couldn't even figure out if my involuntary response was a good thing or a bad thing. All I knew was that our friendship was irrevocably altered last night. I had gone to his house clinging to our last few moments of closeness and now I was taking refuge in the 2,200 miles between us. Maybe this summer away was going to be a good thing. Maybe I just needed to have some time to myself, away from Gale, to figure things out. Or not. I was perfectly okay with avoidance.

After we'd successfully disembarked the plane, we honed in on a woman holding a yellow paper that read "Everdeen". She wasn't dressed in a suit or sporting a driver's cap. She was a petite woman clad in pink velour sweatpants, dark pink tank top, and sequined platform sandals, her platinum blonde hair, piled high on her head in a messy bun. She looked to be in her early 30's, but she could've been much older judging by how much "work" she had obviously had done.

"Mrs. Everdeen?" she asked after lowering her oversized Dior sunglasses to make eye contact with my mother.

My mother's eyes bulged in surprise. "Please, call me Annalise," she replied, offering her hand to shake.

"Annalise it is. I'm EuphemiaTrinket – everyone just calls me 'Effie'. I'm so happy to welcome you to California. I'm sure you and your daughters are totally going to love it here." Her bright white smile flashed in stark contrast to her artificially tanned skin.

"Forgive my alarm. For some reason, I was expecting Dr. Trinket to be a man. The personnel director I spoke to was referring to the Chief of Staff as 'he,'" my mother stated.

Effie let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, no, _I'm _not Dr. Trinket. Leopold Trinket is my husband. He called me not too long ago as I was just getting out of Pilates class – hence the outfit. Ugh, I would _never _go out like this normally to, like, meet a stranger! Gosh, no! He was held up in surgery, so he asked me to come pick you guys up, so I just raced on over here without changing because I _hate_ being late for anything." Effie spoke a mile a minute, with dramatic emphasis and gestures. There was something about her that rubbed me the wrong way. She was too dramatic, too perky, too… tan. Was this what everyone was like in California?

We waited at the bustling baggage claim area as luggage after luggage spilled out onto the rotating carousel. Prim was wide eyed and mesmerized by the novelty, watching with anticipation for our tattered old suitcases to make an appearance. Truth be told, I was pretty impressed myself, but I didn't want to look like a naïve idiot, giggling and gasping at everything around me. We waited at least twenty minutes for our belongings to finally make an appearance. Effie kept looking at her watch and mumbling something about parking costs. She had some random passerby stack our suitcases onto a cart then escorted us towards the parking structure.

I stopped in my tracks when we finally stepped outside. The air was slightly salty and the sun caressed my skin. It wasn't the thick, stifling heat that was characteristic of June day in Detroit. The voices I was vaguely aware of were receding into the distance. When my eyes reopened, the three of my companions were already in the middle of the crosswalk prompting me to run to catch up.

It turned out I'd have plenty of time to drink in the sunshine and cool breeze. Effie helped us into her silver convertible before driving off down the highway with the top down.

"How far away is our apartment from here?" my mother asked, trying to make conversation.

"Oh, not too far. Just gotta head up the 405 to the 10. Maybe, like, 20 to 30 minutes, depending on traffic. The morning rush hour should be over, but here in L.A., you just never know! The odds never seem to be in my favor!" Effie kept spewing out words and numbers that had no meaning to us. I caught my mother's expression in the side mirror and I could tell she was wondering if she'd ever get used to the customs of this place.

As we headed to our temporary home, I pulled the rubber band from the end of my braid, shook my head to loosen the strands and let my hair tangle in the wind.

"Do you miss Gale yet?" Prim shouted over the whooshing sounds. I returned her question with a confused glare.

"Gale?" Prim nodded. My hand reached over the side of the car and weaved through the moving air. "Gale who?"

* * *

"I know you were probably expecting something nicer. If it were up to me and Leopold, we'd put you up at the Ritz-Carlton, but unfortunately, the hospital budget is tight, so this is what they gave you." Effie opened the door to a quaint one-bedroom apartment, already furnished with simple necessities – a small dining table with two chairs, a green sofa bed, a television – which is now a luxury we haven't had in a long time - and a queen size bed and dresser in the bedroom. The place wasn't much smaller than our apartment back home, so we weren't exactly disappointed in it. Effie had nothing to apologize for. It occurred to me that, by the standards she was used to, this place wasn't up to par, but she clearly was not aware of the life we were accustomed to living. This "Ritz-Carlton" she spoke of probably exceeded any extent of our imaginations anyway.

"No, it's perfectly fine," my mother assured her.

"Cool. Well, I'll pick you up for your first day tomorrow morning, but there is a pamphlet on the kitchen counter with the bus schedule as well as a few take out menus, and a list of phone numbers you might need. Our home number is on there, but let me…" Effie grabbed a purple pen from her purse and began jotting something down on the paper. "… there is my cell phone number. Call me if you or the girls need anything. As you might have noticed, I don't usually have anything very pressing to do with my days except for the occasional party planning. Such is the life of a doctor's wife!" She let out a sigh that had Prim and me rolling our eyes and giggling.

"Thank you for the ride and all the assistance, Mrs. Tri – _Effie,_" my mother said, seeing the perky woman out the door. After she had left, my mother turned to us and pointed to the single bedroom. "You girls go ahead and unpack. You can share the room and I'll take the sofa bed. I just need to take care of something first."

Her voice sounded a bit weary and nervous, but we complied without question. Prim and I began unpacking our suitcases and finding homes for our clothing and personal effects.

"So what do you think of California so far?" she inquired. I caught a glimpse of our mother in the kitchen, nervously pacing and gripping the phone tightly.

"Uh, great. It's nice," I answered apathetically, my attention still fixated on my mother's phone call. I couldn't make out what she was saying or who she could be talking to, but her face was very intense and anxious and her body language was cowering.

"… the airport?" I caught the tail end of whatever Prim had been prattling on about.

I didn't want to hurt her feelings by letting her know I wasn't listening, so I just answered generically, "Uh-huh, yeah." My mother's face seemed to have relaxed a bit and I could see a trace of a smile begin to form at the corner of her mouth. She nodded hesitantly before she finally hung up the phone.

"When?" Prim looked up at me.

"When what?" I finally turned to give her my full attention.

"When are you going to call Gale? You told him, when he dropped us off at the airport, that you were going to call him," she clarified.

My face heated up and I averted my gaze from hers. "Oh, umm, whenever. It's no big deal. I'm sure he's not waiting by the phone or anything. I'll just call him later or something."

"By the way he looked at you when we were leaving, I think he probably _is_ waiting for your call."

"What look?" I asked incredulously.

Prim looked up as if searching her memory for the image. "Like a little kid that lost his balloon to the sky." I had no idea how to respond to what Prim had just said. "I think Gale kind of likes you, Katniss," she added quietly.

I scoffed unconvincingly, trying to ward off her suspicions. "Of course he likes me, Prim. We're best friends."

"Not like _that_ way. I think he –" Prim stopped short of finishing her thought when our mother stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "Mom? What wrong?"

"Girls, I'd like to talk to you about something…"

She prefaced the discussion with a background story Prim and I had already heard many times in our lifetime. Whenever we'd ask about our grandparents, she always told us about how she grew up with a dad that was a successful doctor and a mother who was a quiet, dutiful wife. Their family was pretty well off. My mother became a nurse because her father had pressured her into getting into the medical field, but she did not want to go through so many years of schooling, so she opted for nursing instead. She had a younger brother who was accepted into Harvard Medical School just before she met my father and got married. Her father was so disappointed in her decision to marry a man who was of a lower socio-economic class. He felt that my father wouldn't be able to provide for his family. Consequently, my mother cut her ties with my grandfather and they hadn't spoken to each other in eighteen years.

"So I just got off the phone with your grandmother. They're here in California now. They've been here for the past five years and I thought that it would be a good opportunity to see them again… for them to meet you two." We stared blankly at her. "But only if you're okay with it. If you don't want to, we don't have to."

"Yes!" Prim exclaimed excitedly, catching both of us off guard. "We finally get to meet our grandparents? When?"

"Well, tonight, actually. They've invited us to meet them for dinner. Katniss? What do you think?"

"Why now? Because daddy's gone, _now_ we're good enough for them?" I spat out without thinking.

"Honey, I was very angry at them for how they treated him, but it's _my_ fault more than anybody's that they haven't contacted you. I was the one that cut them out. I just feel like this is a good opportunity to mend my relationship with my parents. This trip would be a great time to finally let go of my resentment and forgive them." She looked me squarely in the eye and her subtext was not lost on me. She was forgiving her parents in hopes it would get me to forgive her.

"I guess," I mumbled softly.

"Yes?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, sure." She pulled Prim and me into a constricting hug. I don't know what it is about our relationships with our parents. No matter how old we get or how much they disappoint us, we never stop trying to please them.

* * *

My stomach had been tied in knots for hours by the time I finally decidedly to call Gale. I was afraid he'd bring up the big question looming between us during our call, but my need to talk to someone about our impending introduction to our grandparents far outweighed the anxiety I felt about talking to Gale.

"Hey, Catnip! I was starting to think I'd hear about some plane crashing on its way to California! What took you so long?" he asked casually.

"Oh, umm… just had a lot to do when we got here," I lied, then quickly added before the conversation could turn to less desirable subject matters, "But yeah, we're here safe and sound. The weather's gorgeous, the people are tan, our apartment is cozy."

"Oh. Sounds great?" he replied awkwardly. "So nothing eventful happened yet? No earthquakes or anything?" Thankfully, he seemed to understand the need to put the issue aside.

"No, no earthquakes. But something big is going on tonight."

"Big?"

"Yeah. We're, uh, going to meet our grandparents for the first time." I finally let out the breath I had been holding in.

"The stuck up,'bourgie', estranged grandparents? They're in California? I thought your mom was from Boston?" I was relieved by Gale's ability to slip back into our normal roles.

"I guess they came out here five years ago. How my mom knew about that, I'm not sure, but apparently we're having dinner with them at some hoity-toity country club in an hour." I picked up my nicest blouse from the closet, as per my mother's request, and placed it on the bed next to the grey slacks I had bought for a job interview at the library back home.

"And you're not excited about this?" Gale asked.

I thought honestly about this question for a few moments. "I don't know. I guess it was just easier to accept that they weren't a part of our lives because of my mom's choice. I just don't want to meet them and have them reject us for _us._ Prim and I _are_ my dad's daughters and I'm just like him. What if –"

"Now you stop right there," Gale interjected. "Money doesn't buy class. Just remember that. You Everdeens are the best kind of people I know, so when you walk into that 'hoity-toity country club', you hold your head up. People like that, they just put on a show. That's all they want."

I couldn't help but smile at Gale's reliable prejudice against rich folks. "Alright, thanks for the pep talk, Gale. I should get ready to go now. Mom and Prim have been ready for the past twenty minutes and they're starting to pace."

We hung up after a half-hearted promise to keep in touch and I slipped into the outfit I had laid out. I re-braided my long, dark hair, and slung it back over my shoulder. Makeup was never my thing, but I couldn't help but feel the need to primp myself for the company I was sharing tonight. After a few minutes debate, I finally settled on a quick brush of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss.

* * *

"The Sunset Shores Country Club is a sprawling resort that boasts a 100-acre, world-renown golf course, 16 tennis courts, two Olympic-sized salt water swimming pools, 4-mile walking trail, and private beach access. For our valued members, the resort also includes a 5-star restaurant, full-service spa, a 56 guest room lodge, as well as 8 fully functioning executive bungalows…" Prim read from the club's brochure as we waited in the restaurant's foyer.

"Wow, it sounds like we'd _totally_ fit in here," I added sarcastically.

A hostess approached us and my mother told her we were here with the Solomon party. It was funny that, in all the years of not knowing our grandparents, I never thought to even ask their names. The hostess led us to a table situated in an outdoor patio in the back overlooking the sun setting into the Pacific Ocean. My eyes wandered away from the breath-taking view to the couple that stood from the table to greet us.

The first to draw towards us was an older gentleman with ashy brown hair, greying on the edges, his blue eyes serious and thoughtful but neither friendly nor threatening. The woman with him looked almost exactly like my mother. She obviously had to be much older than my mother, but stress and depression had worn my mother down with wrinkles way beyond her age and this woman clearly had not worked a day in her life.

"Annalise?" her voice cracked. My mother quickly surrendered into her mother's arms, allowing this strange woman access to her vulnerability. The image stunned me, but not as much as what she said next. "Oh, my little girl!"

"Mom, I'm hardly a little girl anymore. Let me introduce you and Dad to _my_ little girls – this is my eldest, Katniss; she's sixteen. And Primrose who is twelve now." My mother stood between us, placing a tentative hand on each of our shoulders. "Girls, these are my parents – your grandparents – Conrad and Lillith Solomon."

Our grandfather shook our hands awkwardly and our grandmother followed with a bone-crushing embrace. We soon retreated to our seats, taking our etiquette cues from the elderly couple across from us – unfolding the cloth napkins onto our laps and dipping our fingers into the tiny bowls of water set before us. Prim and I exchanged puzzled looks.

"Annalise, dear," my grandfather finally broke the icy silence, "your mother tells me you're here in California on temporary assignment?"

My mother nodded timidly. "Yes, a three month stay at St. Vincent's."

"Really? Where are you all staying?" he asked curiously.

"The hospital has put us up in a modest one-bedroom apartment near the facility."

"Oh dear, I simply couldn't have my girls living in squalor!" he exclaimed without filter.

Both my mother and grandmother looked at him in appalled.

"Conrad, honey…" my grandmother began.

"Dad, it can hardly be considered _squalor_. It's really perfectly alright," mother attempted to defend herself.

I could help but let out an amused snicker. "If you think that's 'squalor', you should see what our place is like in Michigan."

"Katniss!" my mother hissed at me. I looked at her with feigned innocence as I was completely aware of the cloud of discomfort I brought to the table.

"Are we ready to order?" the waiter interrupted just in time. I hid my face behind the menu to avoid further eye contact with the adults at the table. "And you, Miss?"

Remembering Gale's advice, I held my head up with pride and said in my most polite voice, "Yes, I'll be having the lamb stew."

The waiter stood there staring at me for several moments causing my previously confident decorum to begin cowering with uneasiness.

"Katniss? _Katniss Everdeen?_"

* * *

**A/N: _Thank you for all the reviews and alerts! Please continue to keep them coming as they do give me motivation and helps me sort my thoughts. Basically, Reviews = next chapter update!_**

_**I know this chapter might have felt a little slow. It's really just setting things up and situating our protagonist. I'm hoping you're still sticking with me. I kind of felt like the books each had some slow starts too, but they were all well worth it in the end. **_

_**Tell me your thoughts! What did you think of this Effie? I know she's a little different, but this isn't the Capitol. I had to make her the Southern California version of herself. Also, I'm not from Los Angeles, so if you're from there and you're reading this, pardon any inaccurate names or locations.**_

_**One last thing – looking for someone to beta for me. For the most part, I'm usually okay with the spelling, punctuations, and grammar stuff, but it always helps to have a second pair of eyes to catch mistakes! What I'm really looking for someone to help with story continuity, flow, etc. If you're interested, please PM me. Thanks!**_

_**REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!**_


	3. Chapter 3: Somebody I Used to Know

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters. This fiction is for entertainment purposes only._

_**Chapter 3: Somebody I Used to Know**_

"Katniss?" the waiter asked incredulously. _"Katniss Everdeen?"_

I gawked at him, at a complete loss for words. Who was this guy anyway? I had never seen him before in my life. My face flushed as I searched the database of my memory for a previous encounter with this tall, broad-shouldered, beach blonde man with piercing blue eyes and crooked grin. Nothing. Nothing was registering and I began to panic. How could he possibly know me by name? I had been in California for all of eight hours and we hadn't met anyone other than Effie and my grandparents.

"Wh-what? I'm sorry, do I know you?" I finally managed to asked, trying my hardest not to come across as rude or demanding.

He smiled gently. "It's okay. It's been a couple of years. I don't expect you to remember."

Another waitress came up to him, untying her waist apron. "Hey, Pete. I'm going on break. Would you mind checking on my tables for a bit? Table five will probably need water soon." He nodded his head in confirmation then politely excused himself from our table.

Pete? Do I know someone named Pete from a couple years ago?

"Katniss, honey, how are you acquainted with our server?" my grandmother asked from across the table.

"I-I'm not. I don't know…"

The adults shrugged off the incident and dove back into talk about my mother's job and our living situation. My attention was focused across the room at this mysterious stranger who seemed not to be stranger at all.

"Excuse me. I need to… use the restroom." I slowly made my way to the far side of the restaurant, secretly eying this "Pete" guy. I simply couldn't figure out how I had traveled over 2,000 miles from the only place I've ever been and, before the close of 'Day 1', someone had recognized me. The hallway to the restrooms was adjacent to the kitchen entry. I purposely took my time, waiting for him to return to place the food orders. I didn't wait long before he headed back in my direction.

"Pete?" He stopped short before disappearing into the kitchen, turning to meet my suspicious gaze. "I don't think I know a Pete. Care to enlighten me?"

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to freak you out back there. I guess I shouldn't have expected you to remember me." When I didn't respond, he continued. "P.S. 12? Merchant Middle School? Any of those ring a bell? Peeta… Mellark?"

My eyes might have actually bulged out of the sockets. I gasped, forcing my spit down the wrong pipe and sending me into a coughing fit. Without another word, I quickly escaped into the women's restroom, leaving Peeta behind.

_Peeta Mellark? _Of all the people in the world, I had to run into Peeta here? Suddenly, the memories of Peeta came back to me.

_Gale and I used to be assigned to deliver papers to Peeta's street. Rarely was anyone awake during our route, but there was one house that I noticed a blonde boy peeking through the curtain of an upstairs window just about every morning. It was about that time that the settlement money had run out, our home was nearly barren from pawning everything off, and no one seemed to need any help they were willing to pay for. I was at a stalemate because the only valuable thing I had left to pawn was my bike, but without it, my paper route – the only regular source of income I had – would suffer tremendously. Out of options, I reluctantly wheeled my bike to the pawn shop where I ran into Peeta pacing outside._

"_Hi," he said when he saw me pull up._

"_Hi." I recognized him as one of the kids from my school. _

"_Are you selling your bike?" _

_I shrugged. "Yeah. I guess I have to."_

"_But don't you need it for your paper route?" he asked._

_I looked up at him questionably. "How did you know I delivered papers?"_

_He seemed to be blushing. "Oh, umm, you're on my street. I see you sometimes." I finally identified him as the boy in the window._

"_Oh. Yeah, but I don't really have a choice." I didn't really feel comfortable divulging why I needed the money._

_He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pearl necklace. "Well, hey, since you're already going in there, maybe you can see how much they'll give you for this." I furrowed my brows in skepticism. "I found it. I don't know if it's real or anything, but I don't need it. Here, take it. See if it's worth anything."_

"_Why are you giving this to me?"_

"_What would I do with a pearl necklace? Besides, I don't really need the money. It's probably not much anyway." He quickly mounted his bike and rode away before I could protest any further._

_It turned out that necklace was an antique and made from genuine pearls. The shop owner gave me several hundred dollars for it. Needless to say, I didn't have to pawn my bike that day. _

_The next morning, I was hoping to see Peeta so I could give him the money or at least say 'thank you.' During the morning route, he wasn't at his normal perch in the window and it was far too early in the morning to go knocking at his door. I looked for him all over school later that day, but his teacher said his mom called in sick for him._

_He was absent for two days before I finally caught up with him in the hallway. _

"_Peeta!" _

"_Oh, hey, Katniss," he replied, his eyes intentionally averted._

"_Umm, I just wanted to say thanks for the necklace, but I really don't feel right keeping the money."_

"_Oh yeah? Did you get anything good for it?" It really bothered me that I was trying to be sincere and humble to this kid who I barely knew and he couldn't even look at me._

"_Yeah, $475. And it's yours." I started to reach into my backpack to retrieve the money when Peeta began scurrying away._

"_Katniss, just keep the money and, please, don't say anything to anyone about the necklace!" I caught a quick glimpse of his face before he ran off and noticed a shiny, greenish-purple bruise beginning to fade from his cheek._

_At that point, I was fairly certain the necklace he gave me wasn't a random find. I had a gut feeling he stole it – for me – then got punished severely afterwards. I never knew for sure. Peeta and I kept our distance from that day on. I occasionally caught him peeking out his window in the early mornings, but we never spoke again. I had always felt indebted to him and a little bit ashamed that my family's situation was so desperate I allowed myself to take advantage of Peeta's kindness._

And yet, here we were, meeting once again. It was true. I had not seen him around school the past two years. I wasn't really looking for him, but in retrospect, the last time I remembered seeing him was our middle school graduation. He was still this skinny, awkward kid and a few inches shorter than me back then. What happened to him? Did he transfer schools? Did his family move to another district? No, I just passed his family's café last week and his older brother, Evan, was working there. If they were still back in Michigan, what was Peeta doing here?

I braced myself on the edge of the bathroom counter, dabbing my damp forehead with one of the cotton towels the club had rolled neatly into a basket. I don't know what is what about Peeta Mellark that made me uneasy. I hated owing people. I hated people seeing my vulnerability. I hated people feeling sorry for me. I hated feeling inadequate. And being here surrounded by affluent people with _Peeta Mellark_ in my company made me feel… naked.

* * *

"It was so wonderful to finally meet my beautiful granddaughters! I can't believe you are both practically young women now!" my grandmother gushed as we were leaving the country club. "You girls _must_ come visit our home sometime."

"Yes, Grandma," Prim answered excitedly. "I'd love to see your house."

My grandfather turned to my mother. "Annalise, I truly hope you reconsider our offer."

Mom let out an exasperated sigh. "Dad, I hardly ever drove back in Michigan. What makes you think I'll be able to navigate these crazy highways? I don't need to borrow your car."

"And the _other_ offer?" he asked hopefully.

She paused for quite some time before she finally answered, "I'll think about it." I had no idea what this other offer was that they were vaguely referring to. They must have talked about it while I was recovering in the restroom.

"Katniss!" All five of us turned to a breathless Peeta running out to meet us. "You forgot… your purse… inside," he managed between breaths, waving my small clutch in the air.

"Thank you, young man," my grandfather interjected as he pulled a few bills from his wallet. "This should cover your troubles." _Not by a long shot, Gramps._

Peeta waved his hand and shook his head to turn down the tip. "No need, sir. You all have a good evening." I finally looked up to make eye contact with him and he winked at me before turning to go back into the restaurant.

This Peeta Mellark was going to be the death of me. If I never saw him again for the duration of our trip here, it would be too soon.

* * *

"I'm bored." Prim lied back on the bed with her feet criss-crossed against the headboard, tossing her stuffed monkey into the air over and over.

"Then do something," I replied glibly, not turning away from the book I was reading. "Go watch TV."

She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands with a pout. "There's nothing to watch."

"Really? We have 100 channels of free cable and there's nothing to watch?" Prim shook her head. "Wow, then I'm glad I got rid of our television years ago."

"Can we go swimming? There's hardly anyone in the pool."

I took a quick peek out the window towards the small swimming pool in the center of the apartment complex. "Tell you what, you put on your duck float and go for a dip in the pool and I'll come sit outside and watch you while I finish my book."

This seemed to satiate her, thus she quickly began digging through the closet for her swimming gear. Once Prim was ready, we went outside our unit for the first time that day. Our mother was still at work, so I rummaged through my purse for my copy of the key to lock our door. My hand brushed a loose scrap of paper towel nestled at the bottom. I pulled it out to discover, hastily scribbled in black marker: "_**Peeta – (310) 555-3273**__."_

I wasn't quick enough to hide the phone number or my involuntary smile. Before I knew it, the scrap had left my hand and found a new home in Prim's.

"Ooooh!" she chirped. "Someone's got a cru-ush!"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Hardly. I don't even know the guy. Now give me that!" My hand darted out to retrieve the phone number, but Prim held it out of my reach.

"Well, actually, I meant _him_, but now I'm starting to think maybe you really do like him too." I gave her a look that could bore holes in her head. "Is Peeta the waiter guy from last night? He was really cute."

"Then why don't _you_ date him? In fact, just keep the number. I'm sure you'd like to call him up later and ask him out to dinner and a movie," I suggested sarcastically.

Just like I expected, Prim handed the paper back to me. "Nice try. So how does this Peeta guy know you anyway?"

I tucked the paper back into my bag as we settled onto a pair of chaise lounges next to the pool. "He's just an old classmate from grade school, that's all."

"Really? He's from Detroit?"

"Yeah, actually, his family owns the Mellark Café & Bakery. You know the one, right?" I actually knew very well that Prim was familiar with that place. We used to pass it frequently to admire the beautifully decorated cakes and pastries in the window and smell the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

"No way! He's a Mellark? Friendly, handsome, _and_ owns the best bakery in town? You better call that boy quick!" We both burst into fits of giggles.

"Well, no use wondering about Peeta. I highly doubt we'll be seeing him again this summer. L.A.'s a big city and we're not exactly country club material."

Prim shrugged before cannonballing into the pool. I had just leaned back into my chair when our mother strolled up to the pool.

"Hello, girls. Having fun?"

"Eh. We didn't really do much today. We just got to the pool a few minutes ago," I replied.

Prim propped herself up on the edge of the pool, dripping with water and chlorine. "Is this all we're gonna do all summer, Mom? Just stay home?"

She settled herself on the chaise next to me. "Well, I'm glad you brought that up. There's something I wanted to ask you girls. I know it's no fun being cooped up here when you're not familiar with the area and don't have any way to get anywhere else…"

"So you've decided to let us go back home?" I asked hopefully knowing it was probably wishful thinking.

She smiled to humor me. "Your grandparents offered to let us stay with them."

"Yes!"

"No!" Prim and I answered in unison.

"Don't worry, Katniss. I agree with you. I'm just not ready to jump right back into a close relationship with them after almost twenty years of estrangement, trust me." Prim pouted. "So I did decline the offer, but there is another option. Your grandfather would like to rent one of the bungalows at the country club for us." I eyed her skeptically. "Before you say 'no', I'd just like to try to sell you on the idea of having easy access to lots of activities, the beach, room service, and other people you can make friends with…"

"Sold!" Prim was too easy.

"…and honestly, I think your grandpa just wants a chance to be there for us to make up for all that we'd been through. I never let them spoil you girls like grandparents do. I never let them in during our most desperate times. I think they just want to feel _needed_ again. That's all parents want when their kids grow up." I could see the sadness in her eyes and I just hated the fact that she still had a way to tug at my heartstrings.

I thought it through thoroughly before finally giving her my consent. "Sure, Mom. Why not?" Prim squealed with excitement which made it all worth it. "But one condition."

I could see my mother brace herself for what I could possibly be proposing. "Okay…"

"Grandpa can pay for the rent, but I want to get a job to pay for anything else," I insisted. "I hate owing people."

Mother nodded with relief. "Sure. I'm sure he can get you a job on site so you don't have to commute anywhere."

Prim's eyes seem to light up with an epiphany. "Ooh! Katniss, you should be a waitress in the restaurant!"

It took me all of two seconds to read her insinuation. My face fell into my hands when I finally realized what I had just gotten myself into.

**~ REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! (c'mon, ffn made it so much easier! Lol)~**

* * *

_**A/N: **__Ladies and gentlemen, Peeta Mellark! I'm sure most of you already had that figured out. Okay, now it should start getting fun!_

_Thanks to the many alerts that were added and especially to those that left a review. I wish some weren't anonymous coz I love personally responding as much as possible. BTW, still looking for a beta. :)_

_You know, I love chapter titles. I just really suck at coming up with them. After hearing that song "Somebody That I Used to Know" on practically every radio station, I decided that would be fitting for this chapter._


	4. Chapter 4: All in a Day's Work

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own The Hunger games or its original characters. This fiction is for entertainment purposes only… and even that depends on whether you find it entertaining or not. _

* * *

_**Chapter 4: **__**All in a Day's Work**_

It didn't take us long to move from the hospital-assigned apartment to the executive bungalow at the country club. We hadn't even finished unpacking all of our belongings before we packed them all back up. I wanted to say that last night was the best sleep I had ever had. After all, I had a double bed all to myself and I was sleeping on more counts of thread than my lifetime of sheets combined. Even in the coldest of Michigan winters, my thickest blanket was a tattered afghan my mother had crocheted for me as a baby. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined being engulfed in pillowy goose down. This bungalow was, hands down, the nicest place we had ever stayed in.

But my sleep was sporadic at best. My mind simply would not turn itself off. All sorts of thought plagued me, but nothing came with any conclusions that would allow me relax. _Why did Peeta come to California? Should I call Gale and tell him I saw Peeta? What will it be like with Gale when we get back? How close do I let myself get to my grandparents? Am I ready to forgive Mom? Does Peeta remember the necklace? Why does Effie's face look like she's always surprised? Can the people at this country club tell that we're not rich? Is it just me or does this room feel like an Arctic tundra?_

"Katniss, I'm leaving for work now," my mother's voice called out from beyond the downy shroud that covered my head. "Could you maybe call the concierge and have them send someone to check on the thermostat? It was freezing last night!"

Okay, at least I know I wasn't dreaming that part. "Call the what?" I asked groggily.

Her voice was fading further away into the bungalow. "Just call the front desk and have someone come." The door shut softly in the distance.

"Cereal?" Prim's cheerful face looked up from a bowl as she sat on her bed wrapped in her blanket. I grunted in response, reluctantly throwing the covers aside and waddled blindly to our en suite bathroom. "Hey, don't you have a job interview later?"

"Uh huh," I replied, my mouth foaming with toothpaste. "Haw ow ooh?"

"What about me?" No one understood me quite like Prim. "I don't know. Probably just go exploring the grounds."

I spit the foam into the modern vessel sink and rinsed my mouth. It seemed so frivolous to waste so much money and design on a receptacle for spittle, but this place was teeming with frivolities.

"It is so cold in here! I don't think we packed enough clothes to keep warm," I complained as I shut off the shower I had started when I decided against the need to strip off my clothes in this indoor climate.

Roughly ten minutes after calling the front desk for service, there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Maintenance!" the voice called from the other side.

"Just a second!" I answered back, fumbling with the clasp of the bra I hastily tried to slip under my shirt before entertaining a stranger. I attempted to readjust my now twisted t-shirt as I scrambled down the short hallway to the front door.

"Hi, come in," I heard Prim say causing me to pull my top down hurriedly, but a second too late.

"Prim!"

There I was standing in the living room, my red face meeting the maintenance guy. He averted his gaze quickly, but I could tell by his bashful look that he caught my moment of indecency.

"I-i-it's okay. I didn't see anything," he reassured me without looking up. Prim giggled mischievously, walking away and leaving me to the awkward company. "So…umm… you have an issue with your thermostat?"

"I thought you were a waiter," I asked, not hiding my accusatory tone. "Why did they send _you_ down to repair our thermostat?"

Peeta's confident smirk returned, picking up his toolbox from the floor and stepping in to look at the device in question. "I'm a 'floater.' They pretty much put me in whatever positions need filling for the day – server, maintenance, pool cleaning, caddy, personal escort service…"

"Wait, what?"

He let out a chortle at my expense. "I was kidding about that last one." Peeta tested a series of buttons on the box. "Not that I've never been offered."

Choosing to ignore his arrogant joke, I opted for safer topics of conversation. "So you're a Jack-of-all-trades then?"

He grabbed the pencil that was perched behind his ear and pushed its tip into a miniscule recessed button. "I prefer the term 'Renaissance Man', but really, I'm just the club's lackey."

I found it strange how Peeta could jump back and forth between narcissistic and self-deprecating so seamlessly.

"That should do it," Peeta declared, replacing the pencil to his ear. "It just needed to be reset. You should be more comfortable from now on."

I closed the door behind him, sliding down my back and slumping on the floor.

_Comfortable? Maybe the day I no longer needed Peeta to fix my problems._

* * *

"The application you grandfather faxed to me says that you have some experience as a lifeguard?"

"Yes, Mr. Abernathy. I was a lifeguard at the rec center. It was an indoor pool, but I'm sure with a little practice, I'll be able to adjust to the ocean currents. I'm a very strong swimmer," I assured the country club's personnel director. "I've been swimming my whole life."

"Please, Sweetheart, call me 'Haymitch'. Mr. Abernathy was my father and he was a no good drunk." I found it ironic that his breath reeked of alcohol even though it was just past ten in the morning. "We actually have an opening for a junior lifeguard. If you can pass the test, the position is yours."

"Wow, thank you."

Haymitch got on his phone and started punching in numbers. "Let me just call someone up to give you a tour of our facilities."

"Oh, gosh, please don't let it be Peeta," I mumbled under my breath.

"So you've met my nephew, I take it?" _Crap. He heard me. Did he say "nephew?"_ I was beginning to understand a little about Peeta's presence here. If I heard correctly, Haymitch was his uncle. He must be who Peeta came to see and likely who he was living with. "No, it won't be Peeta… Miss Adelaide! Could you come into my office? I need you to give someone an orientation… Thanks."

I sat there awkwardly while he hung up the phone, bracing myself for him to ask about how I knew Peeta.

"Peeta's a good kid – hard-working and great with all the guests – so we send him out to do just about everything." Haymitch grabbed a decanter off his credenza and poured himself a generous glass of alcohol. He emptied the glass in one gulp. "Ahhhhh… so tell me, how did Peet—"

"All set, Haymitch?" a young blonde girl, about my age, came into the office.

"Yeah. Katniss, this is Miss Adelaide Cartwright. She'll be showing you around the grounds. I'll give you a call when we can arrange for your test, alright?"

I nodded and followed the girl who was assigned to give me the tour. "Please, just call me Delly," she said apologetically. "'Adelaide' is just sooo geriatric, you know? Haymitch knows how much I hate it, so he insists on calling me that!"

It took us a good 45 minutes to cover the entire property. I let Delly do most – well, all – of the talking since she seemed fairly comfortable with it.

"…the pool on the north end is bigger. If anything, you'll probably be assigned there more often since most of the younger crowd like it better. We'll check it out on our way to the restaurant. Now over here is the full service spa. They offer your typical Swedish massage, hot stones, facials – all that stuff that makes you tingly. Anyway, the spa is only open to the club's guests during regular business hours, but employees may book sessions after hours free of charge. Lord knows we need the TLC after a long day!" She continued narrating everything we passed by barely stopping to take a breath. "I think you'll really like it here. There are plenty of teens like us that work here in the summer. It's kind of a cool way to meet new people who don't go to school in your district, although there are a couple that go to my school. There's Larissa and Peeta – you might have seen him around. Haymitch makes him do just about everything, but I guess indentured servitude is a small price to pay for free room and board. Some of our classmates come here as guests during the summer too, plus, you really get to become friends once you see the same people over and over, so working here is like a big family party! We do have those quite often too – parties, that is…"

It was amazing how many words Delly could fit into such a short span of time. I think she might have said more in five minutes than I've said in a month. Talkative and bubbly personalities such as hers usually annoyed me, but for some reason, I actually found her effervescence comforting. She gave me hope of making friends this summer with someone that I didn't pity me or to whom I didn't owe an eternal debt of gratitude.

* * *

"Prim, just stay close where I can see you, okay?" I instructed my sister as I climbed the ramp of my lifeguard tower.

"You're a lifeguard, Katniss. Shouldn't you be watching the whole beach?" I ruffled her hair and poke her ribs.

"Yes, but I'm not playing 'Where's Waldo?' just to find you!"

I knew I was very overprotective of Prim. It was just a side effect of having had to save her from neglect and malnutrition. It was probably my protective instincts that made me fit to be a junior lifeguard anyway. That, and the combination of my strong swimming skills and the knowledge of cardiopulmonary resuscitation, got me hired to the job opening in a heartbeat. They did test my swimming abilities in the choppy ocean waves seeing as though I've had nothing but the lake and the local YMCA pool to practice my whole life. It was a little more challenging, but I've never shied away from a challenge. Thankfully, my jurisdiction only included the 100-yards of private beach that I shared with a senior lifeguard and the two on-site swimming pools.

"Fine, I'll be just over there building a sandcastle." Prim found a spot halfway between my tower and the shoreline so she could collect water for her construction.

It was a busy afternoon on the beach. All of the club's cabanas and chaise lounges were occupied and many guests were out in the water on a surfboard or jet ski. Above the sound of the crashing waves, the children giggling, and the jet skis humming, I heard a rowdy group of teenagers coming down the steps to the beach. The two boys were wrestling one another while the girls looked on, laughing unnaturally high pitched. My eyes followed them as they careened through the sand, paying no mind to the other guests. Several members moved for the first time in hours to eye them with distaste, but no one asked them to settle down. Knowing how much this crowd loved to get their way and hated any disruption from the former, I concluded that this obnoxious group of teens must have had some clout in this community to get away with their behavior.

"Hey, you knocked down my castle!" I heard Prim yell at them.

I don't know why I had actually expected them to apologize to Prim like any decent human being would when they were clearly far from it, but I was still somewhat shocked that they responded to her with taunting and cackling.

"Oh, boo hoo! 'The big, mean guy ruined my dirt house!'" he said mockingly to her as the others stood back and snickered. "Why don't you go find some cardboard boxes and build a new one? You'll probably feel more at home." The disgusting pig and his comrades had the nerve to high five each other like it was some accomplishment to pick on innocent little girls.

I wasted no more time jumping over the side railing and approaching this Neanderthal.

"If you so much as utter one more syllable to her or lay one over privileged finger on her head, I promise you, I will stick this rescue can so far up your rectum, you'll taste it!" I seethed.

"Whoa, chill out, Baywatch! I don't think saving poor _w-ittle_ girls from getting their sandcastles squashed is part of your job description," the bully incited, pressing his chest to mine like some alpha-male animal even though he was nearly a head taller than me.

His girlfriend stepped between us, apparently wanting to get her own piece of the action. "Yeah, why don't you back off, climb back up into your tower and mind your own business?"

I was near boiling point. "My sister _is_ my business. When you mess with her, you mess with me." Prim stood up and took hold of my free hand, trying to tug me away from the altercation.

The guy took a step back and cocked his head in amusement. "Oh, so little orphan Annie is your _sister_? What in the world is going on here? Since when did they start letting street rats take over our territory? And I thought this place was classy," he griped.

"Money doesn't buy you class," I repeated Gale's words. "Obviously."

He snorted, looking to his three companions for back up. "Can you believe her? This trailer park trash thinks she knows about class. Are you even sure this girl's your sister? With your dark hair and her blonde, I wouldn't be surprised if your mom was a who—"

I didn't let him finish before I lunged at him, effectively knocking him onto his back. I could vaguely hear Prim shouting for me to stop. I had barely straddled him for a second, pinning his arms down with my knees, when I felt a strong grip on my raised fist and another around my waist. Before I could process what was happening, the intercessor had slung me over his shoulder.

"And I'm from the projects, you idiot! If you're gonna insult me, at least get it right!" I shouted to the bully as I was being whisked away. I could see his stupid girlfriend doting on him, trying to brush the sand off his face. "Put me down!"

My rescuer flipped me off his shoulder and plopped me gracelessly on a sand dune. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself kicked out of here?" he asked.

"Ugh. _Peeta_. I should have known you'd be right around the corner. Don't you ever go away?" I asked in annoyance, rubbing the throbbing on my rear end, and hoping to get rid of this _other_ pain in the ass.

"Katniss!" Prim called out, kicking up sand as she hustled towards us. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine, Prim. Why don't you go back to the bungalow until my shift's over? We'll do something together later, okay?" My sister nodded and complied with my request.

"You should really try not to let these people get to you," Peeta said. "They're small-minded folks. Don't stoop down to their level."

"Look, I'm just the kind of person that fights fire with fire. It's who I am, alright?" I stood up and brushed the sand off my legs.

Peeta smiled at me as we trudged back to my lifeguard tower. "And your fiery personality is one of your most endearing qualities, but it might get you fired from your job or, worse, get your family kicked out. Cato's dad is on the board here." I hung my head in understanding. "Look, the Preps are jerks. They're just trust fund snobs with too much time and money and too little intelligence."

"Cato and 'the Preps?'" I wondered. "What are they, some singing group or something?"

He laughed at the imagery. We both rested our elbows against the railing of my tower, watching the group of despicable teenagers dunking each other in the shallow water. "No, Cato's the meathead you just leveled – nice technique, by the way. 'The Preps' is just a name we sort of gave to all these rich kids that walk around like they run the world. Cato's girlfriend is Clove. The other two are the brother and sister team, Marvel and Glimmer."

"Who names their kids Marvel and Glimmer?" I asked incredulously.

"Famous people," Peeta replied with a shrug like famous people were the norm. He seemed to have caught my look of curiosity. "Their mom is Eliza O'Keefe, the actress."

"Hmm," I answered trying to appear nonchalant about it. "Does Eliza O'Keefe want her children to become exotic dancers?"

We both laughed heartily at the image. Peeta was the first to stop, turning around to face me and leaning back casually on the rail. I felt my cheeks flush as he held his gaze on me, evidently studying my countenance. I began to squirm, my easy laugh transforming into an awkward chuckle.

"So you _do_ know how to laugh," he pointed out. His comment was enough to completely extinguish any embers of laughter remaining. "Well, it was short-lived, but I'll take it."

My usual scowl resurrected itself between my brows. "Shut up. If it was short-lived, it's because _you_ ruined the moment."

"I haven't seen you smile or heard you laugh in years," he replied sincerely. He headed back down the tower's ramp calling out, "California looks good on you, Everdeen!"

_**REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! **__(for some reason, I hear Effie's voice saying this)_

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_**A/N: **__Thank you all once again for all the alerts and favorites that were added on the last chapter! A special shout out to __**LeslieMellark**__**, **__**nekonip-chan**__**, **__**LivingReminder**__**, **__**JustSmilez13**__**, **__**ChloeluvsTHG**__**, **__**mockingjay5225**__**, **__**CrunchyMunchers**__**, **__**TatianaMellark**__**, **__**pinkcheer**__**, **__and __**zenleigh**__for your comments/reviews! Thanks to __**zenleigh**__ for volunteering to beta for me (at least for a few chapters)! You rock!_

_I actually wrote the "Cat/Kat-fight" scene first as it came to me while I was working out and I didn't want to lose it from my head. Then I wrote the first scene then needed the second scene to fill in the blanks, but I apologize if they seemed disconnected. Transitions aren't my forte. _

_I don't really want this whole fic to be all K/P scenes (regardless of how indulgent that would be), but man, it's hard to juggle so many characters! Any thoughts? As much as I love glowing reviews, I more than welcome constructive feedback. It's all part of the process of trying to be a better writer and storyteller! _


	5. Chapter 5: Fire & Ice

_**A/N: Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry this update has taken sooooooooo long! I've been super busy with real life projects, but they're done in the meantime. Phew! The good news is it's given me some time to give this story some direction and outline the jumble of ideas I had brainstormed so hopefully the updates should come more quickly. This chapter was not beta'd because I wanted to post it ASAP, so my apologies to zenleigh and to anyone with a sharp eye to catch my mistakes.**_

_**I don't know about you guys, but I'm usually juggling reading a dozen or so in-progress fics, so the storylines can sometimes get crossed in my mind if it hasn't been updated in a while. I always have to skim the previous chapter or two to regain my bearings. I'll save you the trouble with a quick review.**_

_**Previously on "Under the Setting Sun":**__Katniss and her family went to California on a three month work assignment for her mother. Before leaving, Gale said his goodbye in the form of a kiss – confusing them both on the status of their friendship. In California, they met their estranged, wealthy grandparents who put them up in temporary residence at the country club where Peeta happened to work. Katniss did not recognize Peeta at first as he had left their hometown of Detroit, Michigan two years prior to their run-in for reasons unknown, but upon reintroduction, Katniss remembered that he was the boy that gave her a pearl necklace when they were kids that helped her family after her father died. Katniss got a job as a lifeguard at the country club where she got into a tiff with Cato over his bullying of Prim. Peeta stopped the fight, but Katniss was annoyed with his constant presence._

_**And now…**_

* * *

_**Chapter 5: Fire & Ice**_

After my first week on the job, I finally got a day off. As much as I would have liked to have spent it curled up in my bed, I found myself sitting on the veranda of the club's restaurant with the likes of my grandmother, Effie Trinket, and two other gossip-hungry doctors' wives folding red and white programs and something they referred to as "escort cards" for some health professionals gala they were all putting together. It definitely wasn't my cup of tea considering I had never even attended a school dance, let alone a _gala._ Prim happily sat on the floor next to my feet stringing crystal beads to drape on the centerpieces. I was adamant about not performing any artistic duties, so I was left with the mundane, repetitive tasks. They didn't realize I had it in me to even mess that up.

"Katniss, dear, you will be attending the gala, won't you?" a woman named Atala asked me.

I looked back at her with a look I hoped conveyed surprise and not the repulsion I felt in my gut at her question. "Me? I didn't realize I was expected to attend."

"Well, of course," my grandmother added, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Your mother will be in attendance and everyone is welcome to bring their families."

"But won't it be all old people?" I hadn't meant it to come out so offensively. "I-I mean, adults?"

The four women laughed in unison.

"It is for those sixteen and older, so unfortunately Primrose won't be able to attend, but there will be a good number of teens and young adults," Atala said apologetically shifting her gaze to Prim. "I'm sorry, Primrose. If it's any consolation, my daughter won't be able to come either, but if you'd like some company, I can bring Rue to your bungalow. She's about your age. I'm sure you'd get along famously!"

"I wouldn't feel right leaving Prim behind," I replied, grateful for the honest excuse.

"Oh, just go, Katniss! Keep Mom company. I'll be fine." _Thank you, Prim, for throwing me under the bus._ "Plus, I'm excited to make a new friend my own age."

My mind went into overdrive trying to find a viable reason not to attend. I considered feigning illness, but that would probably backfire on my work schedule and I needed as many hours as I could get. These ladies were looking at me like I was fresh meat. I could only imagine how much worse the gala would be with dozens of other people like them.

"I don't have anything to wear," I finally decided. "I don't think I even own a skirt, never mind a formal dress."

Little did I know the amount of enthusiasm my statement would elicit. It turned out to be the worse excuse possible. They pounced on me in a split second.

"Oh, I have a closet full of dresses you can look through! We're about the same size!" Naomi chirped.

"Nonsense! I'll buy you a new dress! It's a grandmother's right to dote on her granddaughter!" my grandmother debated.

"Ooh! Even better – let me take you to my personal stylist, Cinna. I'm sure he has some _original_ design that would be perfect for you!" Effie gushed. This was just getting ridiculous.

"The spa here has terrific stylists that can do your hair and makeup," Atala added. "I would personally recommend Octavia, Venia, or Flavius. They perform miracles."

I felt Prim's body convulsing against my leg with silent laughter. I nudged her with my foot to shut her up. This was going to be an absolute nightmare.

"Katniss is going to have every boy waiting in line to dance with her," Effie proclaimed proudly.

"Wh-what? Who said anything about dancing?" I attempted to interject, but the ladies had long since stopped paying any mind to my opinions on the matter.

"There's definitely one boy I know that will have his eye on my beautiful girl." We all looked towards my grandmother – me with horror, the others with anticipation. "That handsome waiter. Katniss, did you get his name?"

I slumped down in my chair avoiding any further eye contact with anyone.

"Peeta?" Prim piped up. My eyes shot daggers at her for her second betrayal of the day.

"Peeta? Haymitch Abernathy's nephew?" Naomi asked. My head dropped into my hands as I continued to listen to their droning. I didn't even know who was saying what anymore. I just wanted to get out of there.

"He's a charming boy! He caddies for Leopold sometimes."

"I thought he was the pool boy."

"He does everything around here. It's how he and that drunk uncle of his earn their keep."

"I hear that O'Keefe girl has had her eyes on him for two years."

"She sure has, but Eliza won't let her date him because he's not famous. Everything is all about publicity with that woman!"

"I heard it's because he's Haymitch's nephew and you know Eliza's history with him."

"Why does she even care? She's not even married to Seneca anymore."

I had no idea what or who these women were talking about or how they seemed to know all these things, but I hated to admit they had piqued my interest. _What was Peeta's story?_

* * *

I had made a grand but futile effort to convince Effie how completely unnecessary it was to have an original designer dress. For one thing, I was definitely not a dressy girl. And for another, this was just a silly gala that wasn't even a special occasion for me. Girls from my neighborhood just went to the thrift store for their prom dresses. I just didn't see how this even warranted such fanfare.

My grandmother was quick to open her Louis Vuitton purse to lend me her credit card for a shopping spree. As per her request, she insisted Prim and I each bought five new outfits and a gown for me. Since my grandmother was busy overseeing her kitchen remodel at home, she gladly allowed an overzealous Effie Trinket guide us through Beverly Hills. I was hoping I'd be wrong about its pretentious stereotypes, but the only thing I had gotten wrong was that my prejudices were an underestimation. The extent of my experience or imagination could not prepare me for the barrage of excess and indulgence that these shops and their patrons exuded.

Most of the shops Effie escorted us into hardly interested me. She tried in vain to find me something that I found remotely wearable that didn't sparkle or plunge or hug me too tight. I realized I didn't really have a _style_ to speak of. If I had to classify my wardrobe as anything, it would be comfortable and practical. I rarely strayed from the basic jeans and t-shirt combination. It wasn't that the trendier styles were dreadful. They were fine for other people, but I neither had the means nor the time to keep up with all that. Besides, I didn't enjoy drawing attention to myself. The few times I actually tried to fix my hair in any style besides a braid or wear a brighter colored shirt, my mother or Prim always brought attention to it. "Going somewhere special?" or "Have someone to impress?" they would tease. Neither of which were the case, but if something so simple could bring on such excitement, I can't imagine what sort of comments a _skirt_ would provoke.

We finally wandered into a store with a decent selection of t-shirts and tank tops. I started to feel pressured to finally buy something as Prim was growing tired and impatient waiting to go to a children's boutique where I'm sure she'd enthusiastically embrace the opportunity to try on and purchase such girlish outfits, and Effie had already given up on me and began shopping for herself. I ran my finger over the thin fabric of the shirts, attempting to inconspicuously check the price tags even though my grandmother was paying. The phrase 'sticker shock' would have been an understatement.

I let out an audible gasp. "I could buy ten shirts for the price of this one!" I hissed at Prim to which she responded with an amplified look of boredom. Sadly, I wasn't even exaggerating. I couldn't bring myself to buy a plain t-shirt for $75, so I finally surrendered to Effie and let her pick out some styles she thought would complement me – without going overboard, she promised.

Two hours later, both Prim and I had bagsful of new clothing. I had to admit, Effie didn't do so terribly. I'd never pick out the articles she chose for me, but when I tried them on, I actually didn't mind them so much. I was almost beginning to trust her enough to take me to her designer friend, Cinna, for a gala dress.

Cinna, as it turned out, was nothing like I expected. To be fair, I had anticipated a short, loud, flamboyant Italian man with thick-rimmed glasses and a scarf draped around his neck. Cinna was none of these things. He was, in fact, tall and dark, enigmatic but friendly. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a simple black shirt. I expected a designer to be dressed with more – well, _design_ - but his pragmatic ensemble put me at ease. Perhaps, he wouldn't put me in some atrocious swan dress after all.

"Cinna, my love!" Effie exclaimed as she approached him with pursed lips. She only gently touched her cheek to his, kissing the air on either sides of his face. I puckered my face in disgust. Cinna turned his attention to Prim and me before I could hide my expression. If he caught it, he was nice enough to ignore it. "Cinna, I would like you to meet some young friends of mine – this is Katniss and her sister Primrose."

"It's nice to see you hanging out with women your own age, Effie!" Cinna teased.

Effie playfully swatted his shoulders and giggled like Prim and her friends back home would do. "Oh, stop! You of all people know my secret." If she was referring to her plastic surgeries, I don't think they're a secret to anyone. The two fashion-forward friends stepped towards me, eying me up and down like a piece of meat – or tofu as the case seemed to be here. "Like I told you on the phone, Katniss will be attending our _Fire & Ice _gala this weekend, and she needs the perfect dress to wear. She's so slim and petite, I was sure you'd have something in your collection that would suit her just right, don't you think?"

The way they were studying me and referring to my body unnerved me, so I involuntarily wrapped my arms around my torso to protect myself from their analytical stares. Cinna's eyes softened in what I interpreted as understanding as he gave me a gentle smile.

"I think I may have a few items in the back closet. Effie, why don't you and Prim have a look around the shop. I'll take Katniss to look at what I have, okay?" Cinna suggested with an inconspicuous wink towards me. I was surprised this didn't creep me out to have an older man wink at me and suggest taking me to a private room in the back, but Cinna seemed genuinely kind and understanding, so I followed his lead through a green swinging door to a narrow room lined with clothing ranging from casual dresses to formal evening gowns.

"A _few _items?" I asked in amazement. "Are all of these your designs?" It's not that I was particularly interested in fashion design, but anyone could be impressed with the sheer volume of original designs housed in this room alone.

Cinna let out a chuckle. "No. Most, but not all. I have a design partner, Portia. Some of these are hers as well." I nodded to acknowledge him. I didn't exactly have anything of value to say about the dresses. "Would you like to peruse through the inventory?"

His question caught me off-guard for some reason. I hadn't exactly been doing a stellar job of taking control of what I wear. I couldn't even decide between a v-neck or a crew-neck t-shirt. How in the world was I going to know what kind of _dress_ would look good on me? The last time I had even worn a dress was my father's funeral and even then, it was a shabby, black loaner from the reverend's daughter. "Oh…umm… I… well…"

"Or I can pick a few for you to try on?" Cinna offered instead. I let out an audible sigh of relief. "I take it dresses aren't really your thing?"

"It's that obvious, huh?" I finally allowed myself to relax into a smile.

"It was pretty obvious by the deer-in-headlights expression you've been wearing since you came in, but I thought I'd at least give you the opportunity to not feel like a puppet," he remarked intuitively. "I wouldn't get too overwhelmed by Effie. She's very enthusiastic, but she always means well."

The thing was, I actually sort of _liked_ Effie, but like candy, I could only take her in moderation. We're just two different people from two very different worlds.

Cinna searched methodically through the racks, pushing hanger after hanger aside, occasionally pulling one out and tossing it onto the tufted ottoman in the center of the room. I fingered through the less formal dresses across from him.

"Find anything you like over there?" Cinna interrupted, toting the modest stack of gowns.

"Oh, I wasn't really… looking…" I must sound like a complete idiot.

Cinna tilted his head to summon me to a curtained area and handed me a sparkling black gown to try on. I stepped into the changing room and removed my jeans and tank top. I gingerly removed the satin ribbons from the hanger to free the heavily sequined gown. Slipping it on slowly and zipping it as far as I could reach, I found that, except for the extra fabric pooling at my feet, the dress actually fit my figure perfectly. When I pulled the curtain aside, Cinna was already waiting with a pair of strappy, silver stiletto heels. I decided against sharing any of the smart, indignant comments that swam through my head over the torturous nature of the shoes, and slipped them onto my feet haphazardly. The five inches of height they added solved the issue of the dress length revealing its perfect fit.

"Like a glove," Cinna praised.

"Great. Are we done?" I asked hopefully.

The green door swung open as Effie and Prim let themselves in to catch a peek of me in dress. Prim let out a squeak before covering her face in astonishment. I was certain her eyes even began to water. Without a word, she approached me – well, the gown – with reverence and lightly grazed her fingers over the sequins. I expected Effie to sashay in singing praises about how _gorgeous_ the dress looked, but she stood back with her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side.

"Is that a 'no'?" Cinna asked her.

Effie tapped her manicured nails on her front tooth. "Wellll…" she dragged out. "The gala theme is fire and ice. I don't think this dress fits either of those. 'Coal', maybe, but not 'fire.'"

"Close enough!" I was really hoping not to drag this process out any longer than necessary. "Beggars can't really be choosers, Effie. I'm fine with whatever," I attempted to move on.

"Not to worry, I have just the dress!" Cinna strode toward his selections and dug through them until he came up with a dark red, asymmetrical gown adorned with crystals at the strap and throughout the lower half of the skirt. Even I had to admit it was breathtaking and definitely qualified to be "fire."

After I had put the dress on and slipped the shoes back onto my feet, I sauntered into the room awaiting the others' approval. They didn't say anything, but I took the jumping and clapping as a sign that they were unanimously in favor of this gown.

"You don't think it overwhelms me? I feel like there's so much going on right here," I said, gesturing in a circular motion around my neck and shoulders.

Cinna took hold of my braid, twisted it up into a knot, and secured it with the pen he had behind his ear. "There. Much better. Katniss, you must be the muse of my dreams 'cause this dress looks like it was made for you."

"Peeta's gonna have a heart attack!" Prim exclaimed sending Effie and her into fits of girlish giggles.

I really hoped Peeta wouldn't be at this gala.

* * *

A rhythmic knock from the front door echoed through the tiled hallway of our bungalow. Prim answered the door excitedly while our mother and I did some final primping. We had visited the salon as Atala had suggested where Venia, Flavius, and Octavia had painstakingly styled our hair and applied our makeup. We just had to get dressed and accessorize. Neither of us had much in the way of jewelry, but my mother lent me a simple pair of fake diamond earrings to wear.

As I staggered into the living room on my foreign high heels, I was greeted by Atala and her children – Rue, a girl about Prim's age and Thresh, a large, brooding teenager (I only assumed he was a teen because he was still required to attend this even with his parents; otherwise, he looked as if he was already a grown man). Prim had already tugged Rue to the couch to show her the selection of Miley Cyrus movies to choose from.

"Prim and Rue, we'll be back around ten o'clock to check on you two, okay?" Mom said with a kiss to my sister's head.

When we stepped outside, we realized Atala had driven a golf cart to our bungalow which seemed a little strange, if you asked me, but my stilettoed feet were not about to protest. My mother joined Atala in the front row and Thresh and I slid into the back seat, hugging the edges so as not to make any contact with one another. His size made the task impossible whenever Atala rounded a corner and the lack of seatbelts allowed me to slide on the silky fabric of my dress.

"Sorry," I apologized.

Thresh finally cracked a smile and replied, "It's cool. No worries."

Thankfully, we arrived at the restaurant within a few minutes where valet attendants reached out to help me out of the golf cart. After adjusting my gown, I pushed my shoulders back and lifted my chin like Cinna had instructed me. I felt like an Amazonian on the shoes he had given me, but they made it impossible to slouch without losing my balance, so they did wonders for my posture. The party was already in full swing by the time we made our entrance.

"Katniss, honey, I need to find your grandfather. I have to speak with him about something. Will you be okay on your own for a bit?" my mother asked.

"Thresh, why don't you keep her company for a while?" Atala suggested then said to my mother, "I'm sure Katniss would much rather have another young person to hang out with anyway, right?"

With that, our mothers left us to our awkward silence.

"So… do you come to these things often?" Thresh asked.

"Who, me? Gosh no. This is definitely a first," I answered. "You?"

"I used to, but not so much anymore – thank God. My mom just requires me to go to one a year and this one is the lucky winner!" he said sarcastically. "I'm not really selling you on it, am I?"

I shrugged. "It's okay. I'm already here under duress anyway. Thankfully they don't have such lavish events back in Detroit."

"Crab cake?" a waiter interrupted carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres out to us.

Thresh and I both took a crab cake and stuffed them into our mouth unapologetically.

"Mmm… but the food here might be enough to sell _me _on these parties," Thresh jested after he had swallowed his food.

I was still working on mine, so I answered with an approving nod and 'thumbs up.'

"You look like you could use something to wash that down. I'm gonna go get us some drinks. Any preferences?" he asked.

I gulped hard. "A Coke is fine. Thanks." Thresh wandered away to the bar leaving me alone.

Unfortunately, I wasn't alone very long before a familiar, sleazy voice cut in from behind me.

"Well, well, well… looks like someone cleans up nicely," Cato mocked. "Where'd you find a fairy godmother to dress you tonight, huh?"

I rolled my eyes. "Same place you got a spider to write words into her web for you, I suppose."

Cato laughed. "Pretty and she's got a sense of humor. I think you and I got off on the wrong foot. I'm Cato." He held his hand out to me.

"And I'm… leaving." I turned to walk away from him, but he caught my elbow and spun me in his grip. I tried to keep a straight face and not let him see my stunned expression. "What the hell do you want? Don't you have a girlfriend to harass? I seem to remember her buck teeth and beady eyes getting up in my face the other day."

He leaned his face in until I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. "You have no clue who you're messing with, do you?"

"Bruschetta, anyone?" Cato pulled away as we both turned our attention to the waiter and his tray.

Peeta. Again. Only this time, I was actually relieved to see him. "Wh-what was that?"

"Bruschetta. Tomato, basil, and olive oil on a toasted slice of French bread. I personally baked the baguette myself…"

"Thanks!" Cato interjected with unmasked irritation. "It's an appetizer, not an info-mercial. And we're _fine_."

Peeta looked at me as if to confirm I'd be okay. I could tell by the enlarged vein that was pulsating on his neck that he was on the verge of a "Hulk out." I reassured him I did not need his assistance, "No, thank you. I'll pass." He retracted his tray and I was sure I caught his eyes give me the onceover before he slowly backed away.

"How do you know that loser anyway?" Cato asked.

"Who?" I replied, playing dumb.

"That guy. The boy with the bread. Is he your boyfriend or something?" he asked accusingly.

"No. Not that it's any of your business. He's just… just…" I didn't know how to answer. My friend? My lifesaver? "He just works here."

"Cato, your ball and chain is at the bar looking for you." Thresh appeared behind Cato with my beverage. The way Thresh towered over him and breathed heavily down his neck sent a clear message to Cato to back off.

Cato glanced back at Thresh then back at me. "Huh. Should've figured. _Motown_."

Despite his derogatory implication, I was grateful to finally have him go away. I gave Thresh an apologetic smile as he handed me my Coke. "Sorry about that."

"Nah. I'm used to it. Besides, the opinions of douchebags like Cato have very little effect on me," Thresh said with a shrug. "Wanna dance?"

Despite his endearing head bobbing to the beat of the mid-tempo pop song currently playing, I declined his offer. "Noooo way. I do not dance."

"C'mon!" he whined playfully. "There's someone here I want to impress and if I'm going to be the only black guy in the room, I at least want to show her what I have that no one else here seems to…" Thresh's head bobbing had evolved into a back and forth snaking motion.

"You mean _rhythm_?"

"Yup!"

I couldn't argue with him there.

"Why don't you show this mystery girl you have something else…like the guts to ask _her_ to dance instead of torturing this poor chick with two left feet?" I teased. "I'm not your date or anything. You are allowed to ditch me, y'know."

"Alright, alright," Thresh conceded. "Just don't go consorting with any jerks while I'm gone, okay?"

I rolled my eyes as he shuffled away. As the crowd split apart to make room for Thresh, I caught sight of Peeta once again, serving the last appetizer from his tray to an elderly woman before heading back in my direction.

"Hey, Peeta." I greeted politely.

"Wow. Never thought I'd see the day you'd initiate a conversation with me," he replied smugly.

"Maybe if you didn't make a big deal out of it, I'd do it more often," I bit back. I honestly didn't mean to give him attitude. I just didn't know any other way to talk to Peeta.

He put his hands up in surrender. There was a long pause before he finally said, "You look beautiful tonight. That color suits you."

I didn't know if he meant the color of my dress or the color of my face, which, by now, were coordinating shades of red. Since when did Peeta Mellark make me blush?

"It's just the dress."

Peeta opened his mouth to disagree, but thankfully, thought better of it. "So you think you can take Cato in that dress?"

"If all else fails, I have a pair of five inch spikes to impale him with." I lifted the hem of my dress up to show Peeta my shoes.

He lifted his eyebrows in exaggerated fear. "Yikes! Guess you don't need any of my help with that."

"Nope, I sure don't." I don't know what was coming over me, but I was actually beginning to feel a little guilty for the way I spoke to Peeta. "But thanks anyway."

"I'll take it." Peeta looked off towards the bustling kitchen. He held his tray up and tapped it to remind me it was empty. "Well, I'm on the clock, so I guess I should… get back to work." I stepped aside to let him pass. "Speaking of which, are you working tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah. The north pool, I think."

"Great. I'll be cleaning that pool bright and early tomorrow. I'll see you there." With that, he ducked into the kitchen, leaving me wondering about him and his role here at the club. I didn't understand what I felt towards Peeta. What his current situation is is his business, I knew. But while part of me was afraid to let him into my world, the other part of me couldn't stand not to be let into his.

* * *

_**Ugh… I know. That chapter wasn't really worth the wait. It's partly why I've taken so long with it. It's like a long, uphill hike. I just needed to introduce some our favorite minor characters and let Katniss interact with them a little. Tell me what you think anyway. Even if I sort of already have in mind what I want to happen, I do try to find some way to incorporate the ideas you throw at me – even in a tiny way. :)**_

_**Reviews are fuel! Fill 'er up!**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters. This fiction is for entertain purposes only._


	6. Chapter 6: The Dark Side of the Moon

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters. This fiction is for entertainment purposes only._

* * *

_**Chapter 6: The Dark Side of the Moon**_

Peeta and I were sitting at the water's edge letting the waves lap against our bare toes. I didn't even care that the salty water was soaking through the chiffon layers of my red gown nor did Peeta pay any mind to the moist sand that plastered itself to his uniform tuxedo. We watched in blissful silence the full moon sitting low on the horizon, its broken reflection shimmering in the dark ocean water. I turned to look at him, memorizing the perfect profile the moonlight traced on his face. His eyes turned to meet my gaze. His blue eyes glowed phosphorescent in this light drawing me in.

Just then we heard a screaming in the distance coming from the country club and getting closer and louder every second. We couldn't identify the source of the screaming in the darkness of the beach until suddenly, the menacing face appeared several yards away, baring his teeth and heading directly toward us.

"Cato!" Peeta and I yelled simultaneously.

"Katniss, run!"

"What? Where?" I asked in a panic, my heart pounding out of my chest.

"Just go!" Peeta ordered.

I turned to obey without further questioning when I heard the grunts and groans of their confrontation. Turning back, I saw Cato and Peeta wrestling one another in the sand, Peeta on his back and Cato towering over him throwing punch after punch.

"Peeta!" All I could think to do was run back to help him.

Peeta maneuvered himself from his vulnerable position, but Cato grabbed him from behind and locked his head in a tight hold.

"Cato, stop!" I pleaded. He put one arm down only to reach into his pocket and pull out a switchblade. Within a second, he had his knife pointed at Peeta's neck.

Cato laughed ominously at me, blood dripping down his teeth from one of Peeta's hits. Peeta's face was beginning to swell from the pummeling it took and the oxygen deprivation. I felt helpless. Here was the boy who had already taken a beating to save my life once before and I couldn't even return the favor.

"When are you going to understand, Katniss? I _always_ get what I want," Cato sneered at me.

I found Peeta's eyes once more and followed his gaze down to my feet. What was he looking at? My shoes? I pulled up my dress to see my unbuckled high heels. _Wait, when did I put them back on?_ I couldn't figure out what Peeta wanted and then I remembered. The heels were practically a weapon. But could I throw them at Cato with enough force and accuracy to get him before he slit Peeta's throat?

"But you can't have _me_!" I challenged back before my shoe flew towards Cato in a quick spinning motion.

"Aaaaahhhhhhh!" a scream resounded from the mound of the two boys that had both collapsed to the sand.

"Katniss! You're late! Katniss!" Peeta called out to me. "Get up!"

His voice became high pitched and sounded much closer. I felt like I was falling, then suddenly – thud! I woke up with a start to find myself lying on the floor of the living room with Prim standing over me. _It was just a dream. _Light was filtering through the slats of the blinds shining a bright streak of light over one eye and leaving the other in darkness. I rubbed the throbbing on my right elbow.

"Katniss, you're going to be late," Prim repeated.

"What am I doing here?" I asked Prim groggily.

"You slept on the couch last night so Rue could sleep over," Prim replied.

"Rue?" I asked still trying to find my bearings. "Who's Rue?"

Just then, a vaguely familiar face poked her head out from behind the wall of the hallway. Her eyes were as big as golf balls and her hair was a crazy mess of curls, but her shy smile reminded me of Prim's. The events of the previous night slowly came back to me – Atala, Thresh, the gala, Cato… Peeta. And of course, Rue came back to the front of my mind. When we got back from the gala, Rue had fallen asleep on Prim's bed and Prim on mine, the ending credits for _Bridge to Terabithia _scrolling on the screen. Atala was about to wake Rue up to leave, but my mother suggested just leaving her to sleep here. I could have just slept on my bed with Prim, but I was too tired and lazy to bother cleaning up the spilled popcorn and Monopoly game pieces off my bed to make room, so I opted for sleeping on the couch instead.

"Hi, Katniss," Rue said apologetically.

"Hey, Rue. Sorry about that. I'm still a little out of it." I turned my attention back to Prim. "What time is it?"

"Well, your alarm went off half an hour ago, but I may have 'snoozed' it by accident," she said as she pointed back to our shared bedroom. "I've been trying to wake you up for the last ten minutes!"

I jumped to my feet and bolted for our room, nearly knocking Prim to the ground. "Shoot! My shift's about to start!"

Thankfully, my job didn't require much more preparation than braiding my hair back – which, by now, was second nature – and slipping on my bathing suit, tank top, and red shorts. The pool was just about 40 yards from our bungalow, but I still had to rush to the office in the main building to punch in my time card. I started jogging the winding path to get there, but the blisters on my feet from those wretched high heels hurt way too much, so I slowed to a slightly less painful brisk walk.

"Hey, Katniss!" a chipper voice called from a nearby golf cart.

"Oh, hey, Delly," I replied, keeping up my rapid pace and averting my eyes to hint that I did not want to start a conversation with her. I wasn't trying to be rude, but obviously, I was running late as it was.

"In a hurry?" she asked. In typical, Delly fashion, she didn't wait for me to answer before continuing on. "I can give you a lift if you want. I'm just on my way to drop off some things for Haymitch anyway."

I hopped into her cart without any protest. My feet were thankful for the respite and I was just glad that my knight in shining armor was someone besides Peeta for a change.

"Working the north pool today, right? I'm surprised you can even get up early enough for the morning shift after the gala last night. But don't worry, that means the pool will probably be kind of dead until noon since most of the young folks sleep in on Sunday mornings." Was Delly at the gala too? I would've remembered seeing a friendly and familiar face. "I heard that party went on until 2 AM! I also heard that Cato was flirting with you."

"What?!" My one-word outburst was literally all that I could get in edgewise.

"Oh, Thresh was dancing with my friend, Larissa, and told her about it. Cato is so… ugh! Whatever you do, don't get involved with him. But you probably already figured that out. That guy flirts with anyone with two X-chromosomes – no offense." I shook my head to indicate none was taken. "Seriously, I think he's hit on my _mom_ before! He thinks he's God's gift to the female species, yet can't score anyone better than that blood-sucking Clove. And truth be told, she's only with him 'cause he's loaded." I gripped the seat and roof of the golf cart to keep from falling out. Delly didn't even slow down as she swerved around an elderly couple walking across our path. "Anyway, hey, I was going to ask you… my friend is having a house party tomorrow night since her parents are gonna be out of town. Thought maybe you'd like to go? Meet some new peeps or, if nothing else, get off this property for a hot second!"

"Umm…I guess? But I don't have a ride." I wasn't really sure how I felt about attending a party thrown by someone I didn't know. Or about attending a party at all. I seemed to have used up all my social graces at the gala.

"Just ask Peeta. We're both going straight after our shifts tomorrow, so I'm hitching a ride with him too. So you'll come?" She smiled hopefully at me.

I shrugged and gave her a weak, "Sure, why not?"

Delly parked the golf cart under the porte cochere of the main building. With a minute to spare, I dashed into the personnel office to punch my time card. Delly was still assisting Haymitch when I had finished, so I decided to walk myself back to the pool. Since I was already on the clock and, according to Delly, the pool was most likely empty, my walk was far more relaxed and leisurely than the manic ride up.

I had some extra moments to reflect back on that dream – no, that nightmare – I was having before Prim woke me this morning. A shoe? Who honestly uses a shoe as a weapon? That was completely ludicrous. But far more ludicrous than that was what was happening between Peeta and me. Why in the world would I dream of a romantic moment on the beach with him? Wait, was it romantic or platonic? I don't really know because it's not like we had kissed in my dream or anything, but I remember those feelings I had – longing as we sat on the beach, desperation as he fought with Cato, and despair when I thought Cato had gotten him. There was only one emotion I remembered from my dream that I was very well acquainted with in reality – anger with myself for not paying Peeta back for what he did for me so long ago.

I opened the wrought iron gate to the large pool and headed directly for my lifeguard chair. The pool was, as Delly had predicted, completely deserted save for the pool boy who was currently digging through the utility closet for his supplies. The pool boy! My conversation with Peeta last night flashed back.

"Peeta?" He jerked back in surprise, subsequently banging his head on a shelf in the closet.

"Oh! Hey, Katniss! I was beginning to wonder if I had scared you away from coming to work today," Peeta replied smiling but rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"I just woke up a little late this morning. I had to sleep on the couch last night," I informed him.

He nodded in understanding. "I just checked the pH levels of the water. It's a little high, so I'm just looking for some muriatic acid to add to it. This utility closet is a disaster." He returned to his excavation.

"So how do you know so much… about pools? And y'know, everything else you do around here?" I asked curiously.

He reemerged with a bottle that assumed to be the chemicals he was in search of. "I guess I'm just a fast learner."

"So have you ever been a lifeguard here?"

He laughed at my question. "No. I'm missing one very important qualification to do that job."

It took me a couple moments to catch on to his insinuation. "You can't swim?" I asked in disbelief.

Peeta looked around us to make sure no one heard my question. "No, I can't. Never had a chance to learn how." He knelt down beside the pool to test the levels again, but I could tell he was trying to avoid my condescending gape.

"I could teach you," I suggested quietly after several minutes of awkward silence.

He stopped and stared at me, surely wondering when I'd follow up with a punch line. When I gave none, he finally lent his own. "Aren't you afraid I'll take over your job too?"

I couldn't help letting out a whooping laugh. The sound was foreign even to me. The amused expression on Peeta's face said he didn't even think I had the ability to laugh so loudly. I cleared my throat to rid myself of any remnants of that momentary lapse of self-composure.

"No," I replied haughtily. "I don't believe that 'fast learner' thing one bit."

"Then you're on."

* * *

"Thanks again for the ride, Peeta," I said as he, Delly, and I hiked to his car in the employee parking lot the following evening.

"No problem," he responded sincerely. "It only makes sense since we're all coming from the same place." Peeta dug his keys out of his pocket and pressed the 'unlock' button on the key fob. The taillights on a cherry red Jeep flashed a few yards away from us.

"Huh."

Peeta pulled the passenger door open for both of us girls, holding our elbows to boost us up into his jeep. Delly clambered into the back seat, leaving the front passenger seat open for me.

"What's that about?" he inquired, slamming the door shut after me. "What was that 'huh' for?"

My cheeks flushed. I hadn't realized he heard me. "Oh, umm… you just didn't strike me as a Jeep Wrangler sort of guy, that's all."

Peeta hopped into the driver's seat and started the engine with a loud rumble. "And what did I strike you as?"

"I don't know. Like a 'Beemer' or a Mustang convertible kinda guy."

Delly let out a snort. "Peeta's not douchy enough for that. Not even when he _had _money!"

The car ride fell awkwardly quiet the rest of the way. Peeta didn't seem hurt or offended by Delly's comment. He just snapped shut like a clam. The more I seemed to find out about Peeta, the more mysterious the last two years become. I chose not to press the subject for the next twenty minutes.

We pulled up to a large, modern white and grey house with expansive windows stretching across the entire façade. Through the windows, we could already see dozens of other teenager already partaking of the festivities inside the house – talking, laughing, dancing, drinking, making out. It was a scene I could only recall from the movies, but had never participated in. Gale and I were definitely not the party types, and even then, the parties our classmates threw took place on their front lawns if they had them, or in abandoned parking lots.

Peeta maneuvered his jeep into an open spot on the semi-circle driveway before shifting his gears into 'park' and unbuckling his seatbelt. Delly immediately hopped out of the back seat without opening any doors while Peeta exited and circled his jeep to my side. I was frozen in my spot, painfully aware that I didn't belong here.

"You coming?" I looked at Peeta who stood next to my open door with his hand offered out to me.

"Are you sure it's okay that I came? I mean, I don't know any of these people," I asked with uncertainty, taking his hand to steady myself as I jumped down from the raised vehicle. "Who's house is this anyway?"

"Madge!" Delly hollered to a blonde girl standing on the front steps then dragged me by my arm to meet her. "What's up, girl? Hey, I brought a friend. This is Katniss."

"Hi… Katniss, was it?" she greeted me politely. "I'm Madge." She must have noticed my questioning look because she quickly added with a shrug, "My mom is a huge Madonna fan. What'cha gonna do?"

Madge led the three of us into her majestic home. I tried not to gasp too loudly since my company seemed completely unfazed by the grandeur. We followed her into the room we had seen from the driveway which was complete with an extra-large white sectional sofa, large enough to seat well over fifteen people comfortably, a pool table, and well-stocked wet bar – all of which were being utilized by the crowd.

"Help yourselves to whatever. Drinks in here, food's out there," Madge instructed. "I'm gonna go get some more ice in the kitchen."

I looked to my right and left to take social cues from Delly and Peeta. Delly had already wandered away to a group of guys playing pool. They were all drawn to her like a bunch of moths to a candle. While I wasn't about to follow _her _cue, I had to admire her likability. It wasn't even that she was flirtatious. She was more _infectious._ I reluctantly turned back to Peeta who was waving at someone across the room. I didn't want to weigh him down by clinging to his side all night. He clearly had other people to hang out with. People who were probably more friendly and sociable than me, but he and Delly brought me here against my will – alright, maybe not entirely against my will, but I was definitely coaxed – to a place where I was completely out of my element. Well, people in general were out of my element.

"Bro!" Peeta's friend approached and they greeted one another by slapping and locking their hands then pulling into a hybrid hug-back slap thing. _Guys._ "What's up, dude? Can't believe you actually got some time off! Feel like I've hardly seen you all summer."

"Yeah, man. Been working a lot," Peeta replied. "Oh, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine from back home…" _We're friends? Okay, I probably shouldn't overthink it._ "Katniss. Katniss, this is my buddy, Trace."

"Nice to meet you, Kat." I was about to correct him, but before I could, he held out his beer bottle to us. "Can I get you guys a drink? Beer? Wine cooler? Tequila shot? No one here has any real bartending skills, so mixed drinks are kinda out of the picture."

Peeta shoved his hands into his pocket and shook his head. "Nah, I'm driving tonight."

"Kat? You look like a wine cooler kinda gal. I'll be right back." Trace ducked away just long enough for me to give Peeta a hard nudge.

"Sorry, he's sorta in his own little world. You don't have to drink it. Just hold the bottle so no one offers you anymore."

Trace returned quickly holding a bottle of red liquid out to me. Heeding Peeta's advice, I took the bottle without protest. Trace and Peeta, and a couple others that joined us whose names I didn't bother to note, engaged in several more minutes of small talk about teachers I didn't know and sports I didn't understand. I soon tired of standing around like a statue, so I slipped away without notice. I found Delly out in the courtyard alternating sips of her blue wine cooler and bites of Cheetos.

"Heeey, Katnisss! Where'd you run off to?" Delly said, already starting to get tipsy.

I laughed lightly. "I was right where you left me. But it was getting kinda stuffy in there with all those people."

She took another swig from her bottle. "Oh. I thought you were just upset that Cato and Clove arrived."

"They're _here_?" I asked incredulously.

Delly's face reddened with embarrassment… or drunkenness. I wasn't sure. "Sorry. I should've told you that Clove is Madge's friend. I forgot they were gonna be here." A tall, muscular guy who looked like he could be in college approached Delly and began kissing her fervently, not paying any mind to my presence. "Mmm… sorry… Katniss…" she said between kisses before the two of them stumbled away to get some privacy.

Through the glass sliding doors, I peeked back at Peeta who was now sitting on the couch next to a familiar head of curly hair. What did he say her name was? Sparkle? Glitter? No, _Glimmer._ Honestly, what was her mother thinking? Glimmer had her feet tucked underneath her and she was leaning shamelessly onto Peeta's shoulder. There was 20 feet of available space on that particular piece of furniture and the girl practically chose his _lap. _ I couldn't really see his reaction to her because her unruly mane was blocking my view of his face. Every so often, she'd throw her head back with exaggeration, laughing and hitting his chest flirtatiously. My mind flashed back to the conversation with the ladies back at the club and their comment about Glimmer being in love with Peeta, and then seeing, firsthand, how she was throwing herself at him. Girls here were so easy.

Without another thought, I twisted the cap off the bottle I had been carrying around as an accessory and tilted it to my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut expecting my first taste of alcohol to be a bitter, burning sensation in my mouth, but it was surprisingly sweet. It just tasted like fruit punch which made it dangerously easy for me to take several more gulps. I didn't even notice how much I had drunk until my tongue started to tingle and my head started to spin a little. I guess I'm what people would call a "lightweight."

I wandered aimlessly back through the house, weaving through the bodies of loud, inebriated teenagers. I finally came across an empty room at the end of a long corridor which appeared to be purposed as a music room. A black baby grand piano took center stage under a dramatic spotlight on the ceiling. Next to it leaned an ornate cello accompanied by a messy stack of sheet music and a well-worn bow. On the far wall hung eight various guitars both acoustic and electric. The wall adjacent to it was lined with several glass cases housing autographed album covers and photos of famous recording artists with the same blonde, middle aged man who I deducted must be Madge's father. In the last case, there were five bona fide Grammy awards labeled "Song of the Year", "Best Contemporary Song", and "Record of the Year". Wow. This might be the closest thing to a celebrity home I'm going to get.

"Impressive, ain't it?" Startled, I turned to the owner of the voice. I raised the bottle to my lips to hide the smile that unwillingly surfaced at seeing Peeta leaning against the doorway, Glimmer-free. "And you made use of that drink Trace gave you, hmm?"

My smile, as per usual, was quickly replaced by my signature scowl. "Don't judge me. We can't all be as angelic as you, Peeta Mellark." I guess I'm an angry drunk.

He peeled himself away from the door and walked towards the piano. He casually rolled his fingers over the open keys, playing a lazy arpeggio. "It wasn't a _judgment. _It's was an observation. And what do you mean I'm 'angelic'?"

My head started spinning again, so I chose to ignore his question. "So you play piano too? Is there anything you _can't_ do, Mr. Renaissance Man?" I was having trouble holding myself upright, so I staggered towards a bench seat by the window and leaned my head against the side wall.

"Oh, I don't play piano. Unless you count the one-finger rendition of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' that Delly taught me last summer," he answered playfully. He ambled over to the guitar wall, eying each one carefully before pulling a glossy, black acoustic off its hook and taking a seat next to me on the bench. "I'm more of a six string kinda guy."

"Y-you play guitar?"

"Well, it's not like I've spent my whole life taking lessons or anything. I just dabble," he said casually before adding, "Y'know, to impress the ladies." To that, I rolled my eyes.

Peeta began plucking the strings and adjusting their tightness, tilting his ear to listen closely to the sounds emanating from the instrument. Then he turned his body to face me, pulling one leg up to the bench to support the guitar. He began moving his long fingers gracefully over the strings, plucking and strumming a beautiful tune I've never heard before. I was so enthralled with the melody, I didn't even realize tears were streaming down my cheeks until Peeta stopped playing.

"Katniss? Are you okay?" he asked. "Why are you crying? You're not one of those emotional drunks, are you?"

I wiped my tears off my cheeks and recomposed myself. "No. I'm okay. I was just remembering…" I wasn't sure I was ready to talk about my father, especially to a practical stranger. Peeta seemed to understand my hesitation and thankfully did not pursue it.

"Do you want me to stop playing?" he asked pointing to the guitar.

I shook my head. "Keep playing. It's a really nice song."

"You know it?" He smiled at me as his fingers played on.

"I don't think I've heard it before."

"Well, I guess we were still in diapers when this song was popular, but it's always been pretty special to me." As he approached the chorus, Peeta licked his lips and began singing in strained falsetto, "_I knew I loved you before I met you. I think I dreamed you into life. I knew I loved you before I met you. I have been waiting all my life…"_

I buried my face in my curled up knees, trying to hide my laughter, but my shuddering shoulders were a dead giveaway.

"What? You didn't like the song?" Peeta said feigning hurt.

"The song was fine, but maybe you should just stick to playing guitar to impress the ladies instead of singing," I jested as my laughter tapered off.

"So it was working?" He wagged his eyebrows at me receiving a throw pillow to his head. "Okay, here's one I know you're familiar with."

He was right. I was very familiar with the song he played. It was one that was very special to my father and me when I was little. He'd play it on his guitar while I sang along, dreaming I was Dorothy. I snapped myself out of my brief reverie before I could burst into tears yet again and emptied the remainder of my drink into my mouth to numb the emotions that were threatening to surface.

"Would you mind singing it again, Katniss?" he asked quietly.

"Again?" I eyed him curiously. "You remember me singing this song? I was, like, six when I performed it."

Peeta blushed. Well, it was nice to know I wasn't the only one not in control of the blood flow to my face. "It's hard to forget the little girl with the two pigtail braids, dressed in that iconic blue checkered dress silencing the entire school auditorium with her performance of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.'"

"Wait, you were there?" I swallowed hard as my mouth was beginning to feel like cotton.

He held his fists up in front of him and recited, "Put 'em up! Put 'em uuup!"

I gasped. "You were thecowardlylion?!" We both laughed at the shared memory. "I haven't sung insolong. I'm prettysure I can't singanymore." My words were beginning to slur.

Peeta strummed the song more fervently as an invitation for me to join him. I don't know if it was the intimacy of our conversation or the effect of the alcohol that started dissolving my inhibitions, but before I knew it, the familiar lyrics were arising from my throat. My eyes were still shut when the song came to an end.

"I love you," I said smiling. "Daddy."

"I love you, too, Katniss."

The last things I remembered were a gentle kiss on my forehead and a pair of strong arms picking me up and carrying me away.

* * *

_**A/N: **Ok, so I realize the chapter title is a bit of a reach there. I was struggling with titling this and it annoyed me that something so trivial was keeping me from posting! Originally it was titled "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" for obvious reasons, but I felt like it wasn't relevant to the earlier scene of this chapter. Then I changed the title to "The Dreams that you Dare to Dream" for the dream sequence in the beginning and the fact that it's a line from S.O.T.R., but then decided I didn't want to hint that the first part was a dream before you even read it! Ugh… I finally settled with "The Dark Side of the Moon" for its many meanings – "dark side"= evil Cato; the unexamined things in life, fear of the unknown, and of course the Pink Floyd song's infamous link to the Wizard of Oz. So much thought for a stinkin' chapter title! Lol_

_**Hope you liked this chapter! Drop me a line in the form of a REVIEW! Trust me, us writers THRIVE off of them!**_


	7. Chapter 7: The Catalyst & Catharsis

_**Chapter 7: The Catalyst & Catharsis**_

_**A/N: **__Okay, sooo sorry! I know I broke my word that updates would come more frequently. I've just been in a funk. I can't tell you how many times I wrote, rewrote, cut & pasted, and edited this stinkin' chapter! Ever have all these ideas come into your head at night that sound so good, but when you wake up in the morning and turn on your computer, you have a complete brain fart? Yup, that's been me the past few weeks! Besides, the DVD came out and, duh, I've been vegging out to that a couple times a week! Thank you anyway for the reviews, PMs, and faves. _

_But I digress. To those that are like me and actually read this lengthy A/N, thanks. I feel like I know you too. To those that don't…oh, I guess they're not reading this anyway! _

_**Disclaimer:**__ Thank goodness I don't own The Hunger Games! I'm pretty sure it would've flopped had I been the mastermind behind it. Thank you, Suzanne Collins!_

* * *

"Grandpa, what are those banners they're hanging up?" Prim asked, taking notice of the group of men standing on ladders underneath the patio's awnings. It was the first time my mother, grandparents, and I all had a day off to spend together since we got here nearly a month ago. Sitting there in that restaurant was like déjà vu. We were seated at the same table on the veranda where we had met them for the first time. Apparently, it was my grandparents' usual seat, with the usual view, and the usual… wait staff. Peeta had already taken our drink orders and was currently waiting on another table.

I hadn't talked to Peeta for almost a week after Madge's house party. For reasons I couldn't quite point out, it became awkward to talk to him. Delly reassured me that nothing eventful happened that night. She only informed me that Peeta had carried me to the car after I had passed out and, despite the heavy make out session she was having with the hot, older-looking guy, Delly felt it was a "girl's girl" thing to do to accompany me back home since she had invited me. They had both helped me back to my bungalow and into bed without waking my mother or Prim. Thankfully, my mother worked early the next morning, so I didn't have to explain my slight hangover.

"I believe those are for the annual triathlon event they started a couple years ago," Grandfather answered Prim's question as he craned his neck to try to have a better view if the large yellow tarp that was being fastened to the railing.

Grandmother nodded her head. "Oh, yes, the one Seneca Crane sponsors. He raises a great deal of money for his foundation."

"Seneca Crane? Why does that name sound familiar?" I asked.

My grandfather lets out a slightly condescending chuckle. "_Seneca Crane?_ He's a big time movie director! He's directed _Capitol Games_, _District 12, The Dark Days…_ any of those ring a bell?" I shook my head. "Well, nevertheless, he raises money to support the performing arts in schools by hosting this triathlon every summer. The winning team earns a cash prize or a scholarship to a prestigious private school."

"Katniss, honey, you should enter! You're athletic!" my mother chimed in.

I flashed her an incredulous look. "Mom, I think grandfather said 'team', right Grandpa?" I looked at him for confirmation. He offered a lazy nod. "I assume that means more than one person and, if you haven't already noticed, I don't exactly have friends here."

"Well, how about Atala's boy? You seemed to get along at the gala," my mother offered.

"You could ask Peeta!" Prim suggested overenthusiastically, disregarding our mother's suggestion.

I swear, if I didn't love that girl to pieces, I probably would've killed her about five times already this summer alone. The intuition Prim had well beyond her years was one of her most lovable qualities. I just wished she practiced a little more discretion with her notions and stopped using them for such evils as playing matchmaker with Peeta and me. Truth be told, Peeta and I were actually getting along alright and had gotten to the poit where I might have considered asking him to partner up with me for something like this, but after Madge's party, we've been playing what felt like a mutual game of hot potato. The worst part was I wasn't even entirely sure why.

"Ask me what?" His deep voice sent a shock through me, causing my body to immediately stiffen as if an actual bolt of lightning had hit.

Prim began to answer, "If you can –"

"Bring me another fork!" I interjected in a panic. "I dropped mine on the floor."

Everyone at the table aimed their quizzical looks in my direction. I trained my eyes on the dark green cloth napkin that rested across my lap, folding and unfolding its edges repeatedly. I didn't satiate them with any answer or explanation, nor did I look up from my perfunctory task, not even after Peeta had placed a new fork at its place setting in front of me and pulled out his memo pad to take our orders. I conveniently hid my face behind the menu, continuing to avoid eye contact with him.

"Katniss?" my mother called to me. "You can give the young man the menu back now."

I reluctantly handed the folder back to him, his own hand brushing lightly against mine as he took hold of the menu sending a blush from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my ears. Peeta slowly pulled away, leaving me feeling both relief and longing. He disappeared to place our orders and the conversation at the table picked up once again.

"Well, nevertheless,Katniss, if you do decide to participate in the race and find someone to partner with, it would be a great opportunity for you. The prize is _very_ generous," my grandmother added before finally dropping the subject.

* * *

I lolled lazily on the chaise allowing the relentless rays of the sun to bite my skin and the cool ocean breeze to alternately soothe me from excessive heat. It was the perfect balance of weather to enjoy on my day off. Even though I spent my work days perched on this same beach, it was far more enjoyable to let the white noise of waves crashing, seagulls squawking, and crowds talking fade into the background than to pay close attention to every detail occurring in this same scene, ready to spring into action.

I usually considered myself to be somewhat independent. Others have used the words recluse, hermit, loner, and, until I got to high school and started attending school with Gale, I was even called a lesbian. And while I was indifferent to the ignorant opinions of my peers, I wasn't really any of those things. I rather enjoyed the company of those close to me. I was actually missing Gale tremendously. We hadn't spoken in over a month since we left the original apartment. Come to think of it, I never told him we transferred to the country club, so he probably didn't even know how to get hold of me. I knew I should have called him, but the coward in me was simply too afraid to face the reality that Gale and my relationship had taken a turn I wasn't sure I was ready for. Yes. Being independent seemed to be my comfort zone, so even I was surprised to find myself in the company of Delly and Madge, sunbathing on the beach.

My two blondes companions were scantily clad in their next-to-nothing bikinis, sprawled out on their chaise lounges, letting the sun bake their perfectly trimmed figures. I, on the other hand, was wearing my modest one-piece bathing suit which happened to cover even a little more than my lifeguard suit. As per usual, Delly was doing most of the talking. Madge, I learned, was a bit more quiet natured, like myself. She didn't contribute as much to the conversation as Delly did, and when she said something, she didn't elaborate much. She and I weren't bothered by lulls.

"Oh my gosh, guys… Caleb was such a good kisser! And so hot! Thank you, Madge for introducing us," Delly gushed, sipping on her mango smoothie. "He called me a couple days ago and we talked for almost an hour! We didn't really get around to talking at the party 'cause we were too busy making out, but oh my gosh, he's _so sweet_. And seriously, when was the last time anyone's had an actual phone conversation with a guy? Most guys would rather send a thousand text messages before they actually have to speak, but Caleb was actually interesting and intelligent, y'know?"

"So are you two gonna go out some time?" Madge asked, turning over with deep interest. Or perhaps, just to tan her back.

Delly beamed proudly. "As a matter of fact, we have a date tonight. If all goes well, I might have to bail on my date with Ezra on Friday. He's alright, but we haven't kissed yet, so I'm not too sure about him. He kinda moves too slowly for me." Madge let out an amused snort. "Not a word from you, Miss Monogamy! Look, I just like to keep my options open. But if things work out with Caleb, I might be willing to be exclusive. He's so yummy!"

I laughed at Delly's good nature, enjoying the ease of hanging out with girls who did not look down at me for my socio-economic status despite the obvious disparity.

"What about you, Katniss?" Madge asked quietly.

"Me? What do you mean?" I was dreading the direction this conversation was taking.

"We've kind of been wondering for a while, Katniss. Do you have a boyfriend? Or at least a 'special someone'," Delly elaborated. "Maybe someone back in Minnesota?"

"Michigan," I corrected. "And no. No boyfriend."

"Ever?" I shook my head in response and Delly was incredulous.

The two girls were quiet for a moment, processing this information as if it was a foreign concept to them.

"Well, geez, have you at least _kissed_ a boy before? If not, you have no idea what you're missing!" Delly joked to try to break the silence.

My face heated up well beyond the ninety degrees of sunlight that shone down on us. My cheeks turned a dark shade of red, I was sure.

"Oh my gosh, you have! Oh thank goodness! For a minute there, I was scared I was going to have to start censoring myself! So tell us about this guy you kissed? When did you kiss? Is he cute? What's his name? Why isn't he your boyfriend?" Delly bombarded me with questions I wasn't willing or able to answer.

"I…I…" I searched for a response. "Let's just file it under 'it's complicated'."

Both Delly and Madge leaned forward, obviously riveted by what I knew to be nothing at all.

"Oooh, dra-ma! What's so complicated? Is he your cousin or something?"

"Delly!" Madge smacked her arm. "That's so rude!"

Delly shrugged with innocence. "What? Don't people in Mississippi date their cousins sometimes?"

"_Michigan,_" I corrected her once again. "And no, he's not my cousin. We were just best friends… are! We _are_ best friends."

"Aww, that's sweet," Delly said. "I've always dreamed of having that Ross & Rachel or Dawson & Joey kind of relationship!"

"It's not a _relationship,_" I clarified. "It was just a little kiss goodbye before I left for California. It was nothing."

"If it was truly nothing, you wouldn't have said 'it's complicated.'" Delly turned to the cabana boy walking by and shook her empty glass to signal a need for a refill. He took her glass and placed it on his tray. "Mango smoothie. You girls want anything?"

Madge and I shook our heads. While Delly was still turned around and distracted by the cabana boy, Madge whispered to me, "Wait, so you and Peeta aren't…"

"What?" I gasped in disbelief.

Madge withdrew a little, afraid to overstep my boundaries. "S-sorry. I just thought after the par –"

"That new cabana boy is so cute! Remind me to thank Haymitch for hiring him!" Delly interrupted. "Don't even say it! I'm not going to make a move on him…yet. But until I figure out what this Caleb thing is, I can still look, can't I?"

Although I was grateful that Madge was intuitive enough to drop the subject of Peeta, I couldn't help but dwell on this idea that she had somehow gotten into her head. What in the world could have led her to think there was anything between Peeta and me?

"So are either of you going to be doing this triathlon thingy they're advertising?" I asked hoping to move the conversation away from talks of boys altogether.

Madge frowned with disappointment. "Not me. My parents don't want me to take time away from cello and ballet."

"Ugh, I am," Delly responded with blatant reluctance. "Peeta and I teamed up last year and he guilt-tripped me into doing it again. I'm just plain terrible at it."

"What part? The swimming, the biking, or the running?" I prodded, attempting to hide my disappointment at learning my only two prospects for partnerships had, in fact, teamed up. Another part of me wondered if Delly and Peeta were the ones with a mutual past.

Delly release another huff. "_All _of it. I hate sweat. Honestly, after 'Team Del-ta' – that's what we were called - placed eighth out of ten teams, I was surprised Peeta even asked me again. I might have been too polite about how much a loathed the whole experience. But Peeta's just such a sweet, selfless, accommodating kinda guy, I just didn't know how to turn him down, y'know? Plus, I know he could use the prize money. I just wish – and don't you dare repeat this another soul because I never thought I'd ever say this in my life but – I wish I was Glimmer right about now. She's got an airtight excuse. She can't participate because she's not qualified, what, with her being Seneca Crane's stepdaughter and all… well, _ex-_stepdaughter, technically. But related enough to raise suspicions of nepotism. Instead, she gets the pleasure of lounging on a floating island with her obnoxious brother, watching the rest of us break a sweat."

There was a delay in my comprehension of her signature run-on sentences, but then it finally hit me as I recalled the perpetuating gossip I overheard a couple weeks ago. Seneca Crane was married to Eliza O'Keefe, Marvel and Glimmer's mother. That's where I had heard of him. It was like a giant weight had been lifted off me. Not that this fact was of any great importance. It was just one of those instances where something bugs me until I finally figure it out.

The cabana boy return with Delly refill and a couple complimentary bottles of water for Madge and me.

"Are you going to compete in the race?" Delly reciprocated as she bit into the pineapple garnish.

"I don't know. My mother and grandparents think I should. It sounds interesting, but I don't know anyone I could team up with." I tried to act nonchalant. I don't know why I did not want to let on how much I was looking forward to this event.

"Dude!" Delly's face lit up like a light bulb. "Why don't _you_ team up with Peeta? You're obviously a good swimmer – y'know, being a lifeguard an all. Plus, it would get me off the hook! Madge and I would totally cheer for you! Ooh! And we can call you "Team Pee-Ni –" Madge's hand shot up to cover Delly's mouth before she could finish.

"Don't," Madge cautioned.

I looked back and forth between the two of them wondering what Delly had said that Madge seemed to disapprove of. My mind ran a quick rerun of Delly's statement. When I finally realized where she was going with her Hollywood-esque nickname for Peeta and me, my eyes widened with embarrassment.

Delly peeled Madge's gag off her mouth with a chuckle. "Okay, we can come up with a more PG-13 name for them, geez! What do you think, Katniss?"

"I think that's probably not a unilateral decision to make. I'm sure Peeta asked you because he wants _you_ as his teammate," I reasoned.

Delly rolled her eyes at me. "Puh-lease. He asked me 'cause he didn't have any better options. Now he does. But if you want to be polite about it, we can go ask him." She began packing up her belongings into her tote bag. "Let's go ask him now. Besides, I'm starving and Peeta owes me lunch."

Madge and I followed suit knowing Delly moved like a steamroller once she started a mission.

"Right now?" I asked, pulling my swim cover over my head.

"Yup!" she took hold of my wrist and swiftly towed me behind her as she wove through the crowd on the beach. "I want some grub."

"Hey, you think we can go for Mexican food? My parents never let me have Mexican food," Madge asked hopefully.

When we got to a door on the first floor of the lodge, Delly knocked on the door. I wasn't sure if maybe Peeta might have been working. Maybe this was an office or perhaps he was working housekeeping. When there was no immediate answer, Delly knocked again, more fervently. We waited a few more moments before turning away. The door swung open revealing a shirtless Peeta, dripping wet and draped in a bath towel.

All three of us stood at his threshold, mouths agape, before he finally broke the ice with, "Can I help you ladies with something?"

"Geez, Peeta, throw a shirt on before you open your door!" Delly pushed her way past him and made herself comfortable on a beanbag chair in the corner of the room.

Peeta stepped aside to invite Madge and me in. Our eyes met for a fleeting second before Peeta quickly averted his gaze. I tried to remain inconspicuous as I surveyed this club lodging. I expected dark wood furniture with plush white bedding similar to those in our bungalow. Instead, a blue and green striped comforter was strewn haphazardly on the bed, accompanied by piles of unfolded laundry. Hair products and video game consoles littered the dresser across from it. This was not the high class, temporary living quarters of an esteemed club guest. This was the typical room of an American teenage boy. It finally dawned on me that I was not the only Sunset Shores Country Club employee with a very minimal commute to work.

"Well, maybe I would have if _someone_ wasn't on the other side knocking like a serial killer was chasing her," Peeta retorted as he cleared some surface area on his bed for Madge and I to take a seat, then excavated through the laundry pile in search of a shirt and shorts. When he found what he was looking for, he escaped into his en suite bathroom, shouting through the door as he changed. "To what do I owe this honor of having three beautiful ladies come to my humble abode?" Peeta reemerged, unfortunately free of his towel, and dressed in cargo shorts and a blue polo shirt. "This is not exactly how it went in my dreams."

Madge and I blushed profusely at his suggestive comment, but Delly simply rolled her eyes at him. "And that's where it's gonna stay. I'm just here to introduce you to your new partner in crime." Delly held her hand out in my direction as if presenting me to Peeta. "Katniss needs a teammate for the triathlon and I need an excuse to get out of it. Two birds, one stone. There ya go. Maybe this year you'll actually place."

Peeta looked in my direction, his face unreadable. Delly had put both of us on the spot and the last thing I wanted was for Peeta to reject the offer in front of me. "We just came here to ask i-if that was okay with you. I-I mean, if you prefer teaming with Delly, that's okay too. She just had this crazy idea th—"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I'll team up with you," Peeta replied. "I mean, if you really want to do it. Then I'd be happy to."

"Great! Then it's settled!" Delly declared. "Now you're taking us dream girls to lunch."

* * *

_I know Delly's character in the book is "friendly to everyone", but I think I rather like her sassy. Hope you do too!_

_Reviews are love! Spread the love!_


	8. Chapter 8: History Rewritten

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters. This fiction is for entertainment purposes only._

* * *

_**Chapter 8: History Rewritten**_

Though birds were beginning to chirp outside the house, the sun had yet to make its appearance over the horizon. Prim was still sound asleep, snoring quietly under her covers. The hum of my mother's hair dryer could be heard through the wall between our bedrooms as she readied herself for her morning shift. I had just laced up the brand new pair of running shoes my grandmother had purchased for me flexing my feet and jogging in place to break them in a little then ambled into the kitchenette for a cup of liquid energy. The hot mug warmed my hands as I savored the bitterness.

"Katniss? What are you doing up so early?" my mother asked when she came out of her room dressed in kitten-print hospital scrubs.

I poured another cup of coffee for my mother and handed it to her. Like me, she drank her coffee black. During our tougher years, we saved what small ration of milk we had for Prim to drink. Eventually, we learned to prefer our coffee that way despite the availability of cream and sugar.

"I used to get up before 5 o'clock all the time," I reminded her.

"Yes, but not since we've been here. You're on summer vacation, honey. You're allowed to sleep in."

She placed her hand over mine, giving me a knowing smile.

"Well, guess what." My mother raised her eyebrows from behind her coffee mug, urging me to go on. "I think I'll get to enter the triathlon after all."

"Really, Katniss? That's wonderful! Did you find a teammate?"

I lowered my gaze with slight embarrassment. "Yeah… Peeta, actually." My mother smiled with approval. Not wanting to further discuss Peeta, I put my cup in the sink and headed towards the front door. "I figure I should probably start on some training if I'm gonna have any chance at winning this race. I'm going for a run on the beach before the masses come."

"Okay. I'll let Prim know."

I stepped out into the crisp, morning air leaning and stretching side to side to loosen my muscles. The campus was desolate save for the few groundskeepers who had just pulled over their utility trucks to begin working on some hedge trimming. I followed the snaking pavement down to the vacant beach, picking up my pace as soon as my shoes hit the sand.

I was so used to navigating through the unstable surface barefoot that running in shoes proved to be a challenge. I decided to head towards the shoreline where the sand had been compacted by the water. The plan was to run the short length of the beach several times then break to simply enjoy the rare solitude of this early hour.

As I jogged past the lifeguard tower and between the row of blue and white cabanas, I tripped and lost my footing, meeting the sand face first.

"Uf!" I pushed myself up to sitting position and looped my foot in front of me to examine my ankle. The last thing I needed was to disqualify myself from the race due to injury.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked me eagerly.

I turned to see a familiar face looking up at me with concern. Peeta was lying in front of one of the cabanas, propped up on his elbows. Apparently, I had stumbled over his extended foot. I rotated my ankle in circles and, thankfully, discovered I had made it unscathed.

"Peeta, what are you doing? It's too early to be out here." I realized the hypocrisy in my accusation, as did Peeta.

He raised one eyebrow at me. "I just got off kitchen duty. Had to prep the pastries for breakfast. Figured I might as well watch the sunrise. Gather my thoughts. And you?"

"Don't get much alone time out here, what with all the guests that come and go and no way to escape," I sighed. "Besides, I need to get back in shape if I'm gonna be your partner for the race."

We sat in silence for several minutes just watching the waves come in. I was reminded of the dream I had with Peeta and Cato a couple weeks back and I quickly shook my head of those thoughts.

"It's nice," he finally said. "I mean, this is one great thing about living here at the club. You're just a few steps away from the beach. We definitely don't have beaches like this back in Michigan."

I realize he just gave me the opportunity to ask about his living situation. I debated whether it would be appropriate to ask or not. He didn't seem too evasive about it. He was the one to mention it after all. It's just, with Peeta, I was never really sure where I stood. Sure, I had known him or at least known _of_ him for many years now, but it's not like we were exactly friends. The whole reason I wanted to ask him about why he lived here was because I really knew very little about him. After much deliberation, I finally decided it was now or never.

"Hey, Peeta?"

"Hmm?" He kept his gaze trained on the water before us.

"Can I ask you a… personal question?" I asked timidly.

He turned towards me and flashed me a genuine smile. "Sure. Shoot."

"How long have you lived here? I-I mean, is this where you've lived the past two years?" Peeta draws in a deep breath. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"No, it's not a big deal. Just a long story." I don't say anything hoping he'll take it as a cue to continue without my needing to pry. "I don't know if you knew this, but Haymitch Abernathy was a pretty big child – well, _teen _– star back in the day. When I first came here to California to live with my Uncle Haymitch, he was living in this huge house up in the hills. I needed a place to escape and he had way too much square footage for a single guy."

_Escape?_

"Long story short, he lost all his money on a movie project that was supposed to re-launch his acting career. It was gonna be a big deal. He was going to co-star with Eliza O'Keefe and establish himself as a mature actor, but Seneca Crane made some bad investment choices for my uncle's money and – POOF – it was all gone. The movie was killed and we were homeless."

"Wow. I never could have guessed that Haymitch had gone through such an ordeal. No wonder he drinks. Can't really blame him," I said and almost immediately wished I could take it back.

Thankfully, Peeta just laughs at my statement. "Yeah, neither can I."

"Well, if Haymitch lost his house, why didn't you just move back home with your parents and your brothers?"

Peeta's face immediately fell at my suggestion. He remained quiet for several moments contemplating answering this question. Maybe he was emotional or ashamed or perhaps he didn't trust me with such classified information yet.

"Peeta, why did you leave Detroit? I mean, you don't have to tell me. You're welcome to tell me to mind my own business. But if you're worried about me telling anyone, I won't. I don't exactly _have_ anyone to tell anyway," I reassured him.

He took a few more moments to mull it over, drawing circles in the sand with his finger.

"Let's just say I left because… it was a better situation for my family," he finally answers vaguely.

I don't know why, but I immediately interpreted his statement to be a reference to his family's financial situation. I assumed he meant he left because they maybe couldn't afford to support all five of them, so he left to alleviate some of the burden. It was around that same time two years ago that his eldest brother, Cyd, began working at a nearby tire shop, so it made sense. It would also explain Delly's earlier comment about Peeta no longer having "money." What didn't make sense to me was why he seemed so hesitant to admit that to _me_ of all people. If anyone could understand hard times and zero balances, it was me. And Peeta, based on our history, was well aware of this.

"Funny, I always thought your family was fairly well off," I say out loud, immediately regretting my candor.

He finally looked up at me, his head cocked. "Really? Why's that?"

Unable to hold his gaze, I averted my eyes to study my rough, dry cuticles. "Well, for one, you lived in a big house in a nice neighborhood, your family owned one of the busiest eateries in town, and you had access to such luxuries as antique pearl necklaces worth hundreds of dollars."

There. I addressed the elephant in the room.

Peeta was obviously caught off guard by my revelation, but his eyes showed recognition of what I was referring to.

"I found it, remember?"

"Where, in your mother's jewelry box?" I retorted. Peeta chuckled, but if my memory served me correctly, it was no laughing matter. "Your mother hit you when she found out, didn't she?"

His smile quickly faded. "It wasn't a big deal, Katniss. If it wasn't about that, it was gonna be about something else stupid. At least this time it was worth it."

"_This time_? Did she hit you a lot?" I demanded. Peeta didn't answer when suddenly it hit me. Peeta's leaving home had nothing to do with money. "Is _that _why you left?"

Peeta released a weighted sigh and finally admitted, "My dad thought it would be good for all of us if I came out here. I could live without fear, my mother could live without stress, my dad could live without guilt, and my brothers could live without knowing. It was a win-win."

"And they didn't ask for you to come home after Haymitch lost everything?" I was having trouble wrapping my mind around a family that didn't _love_ Peeta. He was so kind, mild-mannered, diligent, and… good. Why would any mother resent that? And what father would choose to send his son away before standing up to his wife?

"Well, technically, they don't know about it. Uncle Haymitch said I was more than welcome to stay and ride it out with him. I just think it's better to go through hard times with a family that actually cares about you than one that blames you."

His words resonated through me. I began thinking about my own life, my own family. Guilt rose with the bile from my stomach, settling itself in the back of my throat. For all the hardships I blamed my mother for, there was one thing of which I was certain – my mom _loved _Prim and me. And whatever difficulties she had caring for us stemmed from the pain she felt from loving my father and having him torn away. It dawned on me that I had been resenting Peeta all these years for pitying me. His selfless act five years ago wasn't the product of pity. He was just a nice person being… nice. If anything, his situation was worse than mine.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Katniss," he said as if reading my thoughts.

"Who said I was?" I replied defensively even though I knew I was beginning to. "People don't need pity. Adversity brings out the strength in people."

Peeta placed a hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze. "Then you and I are going to kick some Preppy butt in this triathlon 'cause we're the strongest people I know."

I stared at his hand that was touching me and smiled back at him.

"But I'm faster!" In one swift motion, I was on my feet and racing towards the water with Peeta just behind.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you to all that left me a kind review and for all the new favorites and follows added! So this was a "turning point" chapter. Sorry it was kind of on the short side. I had another part mapped out to add to this chapter, but after I'd finished writing this, it just felt right to leave it where it was, so that's what you got! Hope you liked it! Tell me your thoughts! :)_


	9. Chapter 9: That Which Comes to Surface

_**A/N:**__ Hey again! Thanks so much for the alerts, favorites, and reviews. I feel the love even if I haven't been updating. Sorry for the loooooong lag. Been dealing with some health issues, family vacations, a gazillion celebrations, all on top of work and being a fulltime wife and mommy. But I didn't want to drop the ball, because we're finally rounding a corner here._

_Anyway, I'm just gonna call myself out before someone else does – I left out the details of Katniss' swimming lessons. Even though I initially thought it would make for cute scenes, I'm going to admit, I can't really swim (basic stuff, but it's more survival instincts than technique involved!), so I didn't know the first thing about how to teach it! Haha So just forgive me for glazing over that! _

_**Disclaimer: **__ Thank goodness I don't own The Hunger Games because it likely wouldn't exist today in best seller or blockbuster form!_

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_**Chapter 9: That Which Comes to Surface**_

"So how does this work exactly? Two of us, three events?"

I sat, dangling my legs from a tall barstool while Peeta finished his morning shift in the restaurant bar, cleaning and storing glasses, a towel draped over his shoulder a la Tom Cruise in _Cocktail. _ The restaurant was mostly vacant before the lunch rush and all that could be heard were the clinking of the empty wine glasses, Michael Buble crooning softly through the surround sound, and the intermittent turning of newspaper pages by old man Templesmith at his usual corner table.

"Well, we split the swimming and running then we both do the cycling. Best overall combined time wins," Peeta explained.

I raised an eyebrow at him and said teasingly, "So am I to assume that _I'll _be taking on the swimming event?"

He peered over his shoulder at me, flashing me a mock expression of warning. "Hey, now. Maybe if _someone_ kept her word about giving me lessons, we'd have more options."

Right. I almost forgot about that arrangement.

"I can still teach you, y'know. But I'd be more than happy to do the swimming portion. I prefer it over running, actually. And you pretty much lapped me on the beach the other morning." Nataliya, a quiet redheaded waitress, appeared through the swinging door and wordlessly placed my banana split order in front of me.

Peeta shined a spoon on his towel and handed it to me.

"That works for me. But I've learned that it's probably a good idea for both of us to be prepared to do all events… in case of any injuries." A distinct blush covered his cheeks.

"Really? And how exactly did you learn that lesson? Does it have anything to do with you and Delly placing eighth last year?" I licked the whip cream off a maraschino cherry. The deeper shade of red spreading across Peeta's face did not evade me as he averted his attention to a stack of linen napkins that needed folding.

Was I embarrassing Peeta Mellark?

"If you must know," he replied defensively without returning my gaze. "Delly was assigned to do the swimming portion – naturally – but she cramped up from eating before the race. Probably a banana split. So, we went from a close second place pacing to eighth by the time the lifeguard towed her in."

I gawked at him then turned my attention to the heaping spoonful of chocolate ice cream, whipped cream, and sprinkles hovering in front of my face, his implication not lost on me. Peeta smirked as I defiantly shoveled the entire heap into mouth.

"Mmmmm!" I moaned dramatically. "Uf ahm gon don, oo gon don wimmuh."

"What? It's not very lady-like to talk with your mouth f—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Peeta's eye met a generous helping of my whipped cream. I stared back at him with amusement as he slowly wiped the cream and shocked expression off his own face and quickly flung them back onto mine.

"Ahh!" I yelped involuntarily.

A loud cough and gruff murmuring came from the lone occupant of the corner table.

"Sorry, Mr. Templesmith!" Peeta and I both called out to him, suppressing our giggles.

Peeta removed the towel from his shoulder to wipe his eye, handing me the other end to do the same.

"Well, my shift's just about over. How 'bout that swimming lesson?" he suggested.

I dug my spoon into my frozen dessert once more. "Maybe in an hour. I wouldn't want to cramp up on you."

* * *

We spent practically every mutual free moment we had training for the upcoming race. Early mornings were often designated for endurance running while the hot afternoons were saved for swimming lessons. Peeta, as it turned out, was great at distance running. His long legs lent themselves to easy strides, so he didn't have to work as hard as I did to cover distances. I, on the other hand, was still getting used to the uneven terrain, but there was nothing more motivating for me to keep up than a budding feeling of inadequacy.

After nearly two weeks of training together, I had been able to keep fairly even pace with Peeta for a few miles. We had comfortably run three and a half miles when I stopped suddenly to nurse a stitch on my side.

"Blow your breath out as hard as you can," Peeta suggested as he continued to jog in place. Show off.

"Huh?" It was all I could manage under my short breath.

Peeta stopped jogging to join me at the railing I was bracing myself on. He gingerly placed one of his hands over mine – the one I had clutching my ribs – and the other on my shoulder. My gaze moved from where his hand was touching my side and followed the course of his tanned arms up to meet his concerned eyes.

"Just take a deep breath and exhale every last drop off air," he led me. "That's it. Just blow it out until you can't anymore."

The discomfort in my side miraculously subsided while a foreign heat from where Peeta was holding me began radiating on my skin and tracing its way to my already flushed cheeks. I stood erect, now that my pain was gone, but kept my gaze aimed methodically away from Peeta's.

"I'm good now. Thanks." I let my hand drop back down, freeing myself from his contact. Immediately, I began longing for his closeness again. I could hear my own heart thumping and my stomach tightened as if a tug-o-war rope was wrapped around me. I mentally reprimanded myself for having these sorts of thoughts - however underdeveloped they might have been - about_ this_ guy.

"You wanna call it quits?" asked Peeta.

I shot an indignant look at him.

"I don't _quit_," I replied haughtily.

He let out a tight-lipped chuckle.

"Chill," he said placating my defenses. "I was just asking if we were done for the day. We've already done our 5K and that's all we really need to do."

My shoulders relaxed as I allowed my ego to take a rest.

"Oh."

Peeta turned to head back in the direction of the country club.

"If you want, we can practice swimming some more. It might make you feel better to watch _me_ get uncomfortable," he called over his shoulder. I rolled my eyes in response.

* * *

Peeta had picked up on swimming surprisingly quick. Within two weeks' time, he learned to tread water, float on his back, and the basic freestyle stroke. His breathing was still a bit mistimed and uncoordinated, but at least I could rest assured he learned enough not to drown. If, for any reason, I could not perform my portion of the race, Peeta would most likely be able to take over, but I highly doubted we'd place anywhere in the top 10 teams. At least he wouldn't need to be towed in by a lifeguard.

"Pool or beach?" Peeta peeled off his blue Sunset Shores Country Club t-shirt, leaving me fumbling for a response.

"I...um...we...uh..." I didn't know what was the matter with me. It's not like I hadn't seen it before. In fact, bare-chested Peeta was almost a daily occurrence. I swallowed hard to regain my composure and my ability to speak. "Umm, whatever you want. If you're ready for the open waters…"

I pulled my swim cover closed tightly as if my actions would somehow make Peeta less exposed. My uneasiness was not lost on him as evident by the smirk painted on his face, but in my effort to avoid eye contact with him, my eyes drifted down to cut of his abs then to the prominent 'V' starting at his hip and dipping into the top of his board shorts.

"If you're not comfortable with it, we don't have to do anything you don't think we're ready for."

"Excuse me?" I replied, suddenly broken from my trance. "Do what?"

Peeta's eyebrows shot up and he gave me a sideward glance as if I was from a different world, which, I suppose I was. _That_ Katniss – the flustered, hormonal version – was certainly alien to me.

"Swim in the ocean," he said abnormally slow trying to jog my memory. "If you don't think I'm ready, we can work out in the pool. It's your call. You're the boss."

"No, the ocean's fine. I was just thinking you were probably ready to try it out." I trudged past him without further thought or discussion, heading resolutely down the steps to the beach and discarding my swim cover on the nearest vacant chaise.

I stopped at the edge of the water, enjoying the dizzy sensation I got watching the waves lap at my feet and drag back into the ocean, sinking my feet further into the sand. Peeta eventually caught up and stood beside me, rubbing his hands in anticipation of the day's lesson.

"Ooh! The water's a little chilly compared to the pool!"

"Yeah, you should probably wear a wetsuit next time," I responded a little too quickly. "So you don't turn blue out there."

"And you don't turn red?"

I could have punched the smugness off his face right then and there. But alas, my reflexes betrayed me by proving his point.

"You know, the only reason I'm even bothering to teach you how to swim is so we have a back-up plan in case I get injured, but I have no qualms about _you_ getting injured." I stabbed an irate finger into his chest.

Peeta took hold of my hand, but I drew it away immediately.

"I'm sorry. I was just teasing. How about that lesson?"

I forced myself to suppress my traitorous emotions and focus on the task at hand. After a brief lesson on starting with some dolphin dives, we began our expedition to deeper, more turbulent waters.

"Since you don't have the pool walls to spot you, you should check your position periodically to make sure you're swimming in a straight path," I instructed breathlessly as I stopped to tread. "Just do it when you come up for breaths." Knowing the challenge he had coordinating his breathing, his anxiety was difficult to hide. "How 'bout you just follow in my wake? If you, heaven forbid, have to swim the race, just follow another swimmer, okay?"

"_Follow_ another swimmer? Isn't the point of a race to try to be in the lead?"

"One baby step at a time, Michael Phelps," I teased as I began stroking ahead. "Race you to the buoy!"

I watched Peeta in my periphery as he stayed in my wake as instructed. I knew I should have been a better mentor and kept an easy pace for him, but after noticing his long arms propelling him faster and his head kept comfortably under water, my competitive instincts kicked in. It wasn't until I reached the buoy that I turned to check on Peeta again. My stomach churned with the rise and fall of the surf.

"Peeta?" I called out. "Peeta, this isn't the time for jokes."

Then I heard it. In the distance, drifting about 30 yards away, caught up in a riptide, was a bobbing blonde head shouting my name, garbled and broken, before sinking below the water's surface one last time.

"PEETA!" I screamed in unadulterated panic. I swam as fast as ever to meet him. By the time I had reached him, he was already unconscious and floating face down. "Peeta! Peeta, I'm here!" I continued to shout, my salty tears getting lost in the sea water.

I flipped him over onto his back and quickly checked him for a pulse. When I found none, I grabbed hold of him under his arms and swam away from the rip current before towing his limp body back to shore. After all of my years of lifeguard training, this should have been easier, but my body was convulsing in a carousel of emotions – fear, sadness, anxiety, heartache – making my second nature maneuvers difficult to perform.

When I had finally made it to shore after what felt like a lifetime – and I guess it kind of was although not my own – I dragged him to the sand with the help of a concerned bystander. He laid Peeta down gently then stepped aside as I immediately began the routine of checking for breathing. Kneeling beside him, I placed my shaking hands on the center of his chest, where I had petulantly stabbed a finger less than an hour ago, and began making quick, decisive compressions. Without any further thought, I then tilted up his chin, pinched his nose, and pressed my mouth over his, trying to breathe life back into him. I repeated the process two more times, all the while begging him to return.

"Come on, Peeta! Breathe, Peeta, please… please!" I recited over and over.

By the third round, just after I finished two more puffs of air, my hope of reviving him quickly draining with my strength, Peeta finally began coughing and spewing water out.

"Oh, thank God, Peeta!" I cried out in relief, trying hard to hold back my tears. "Are you okay?"

I turned him to his side to allow him to eject all the water from his lungs while I stroked his wet hair from his face. He looked back at me and smiled weakly. His coughing had subsided, but his voice was still raspy. "Is that all I had to do to get you to kiss me?"

Was he serious? I was an emotional wreck trying to revive him thinking he might actually die because of me, because of something I made him do, and he had the nerve to _joke_ at a time like this?

"Argh!" I pushed his face back down and stomped away.

"Katniss? Katniss!" I could hear him calling after me, but I continued to ignore him. After several yards, he finally caught up, pulling on my elbow to stop me. "Katniss, I'm sorry."

"There, I saved _your_ life. Now we're even," I shouted as I walked away.

I thought I had been clear that I was too upset to speak to him, but apparently, Peeta wasn't getting the message.

"Wait, what was that?" he asked with disbelief. "_'Now we're_ _even_'? What, is this still about that stupid necklace? I thought we talked about that."

"Just drop it, okay? I'm tired and emotional right now," I said, defeated.

Peeta scurried to get in front of me and block me from walking away from him.

"No, I'm not going to drop it. Katniss, do you seriously think you _owe _me for that? That was, like, five years ago." He took hold of the sides of my crossed arms and leaned in to look me squarely in the eye. "Look, I didn't do it to get anything in return. You never owed me for that."

"But I do. You have no idea what that gesture did for me – for my family – at that time. You saved us. And to make it worse, you got hurt because of it."

"So I saved you then. You, being alive, being here is all the compensation I need, okay? So can you just let it go now?" Our gazes held for what felt like an eternity. How could any person be this good and selfless? His kind blue eyes were melting what was left of my resolve. Before I even registered it, my body began leaning into him, my mouth reaching up to meet his, and then, "You _don't_ owe me, Katniss."

I swiftly pulled away and sped off before I could make such an embarrassing mistake.

* * *

_**A/N #2:**_

_So let's talk about naming characters for a sec. Okay, I'm not really sure what's proper protocol in a fandom – what's okay to emulate from other fics and what's frowned upon. I guess what I mean is, I've read many HG fics where one of Peeta's brothers is named Rye (which I love and before I ever touched the fan fic world of Hunger Games, I totally thought his brothers should've been named after breads too), so I wasn't sure if that was just an accepted trend here or if people might get offended if another author did it too. So I erred on the side of caution and just gave his brothers different names. I also tend to stick names of my family members in when I can. My son's name is in my first fic. My niece and nephew so far in here. Not that they read it. It just makes me giddy to read my own stories online and have that little insight that reminds me that it was really me. I know, I'm a dork._

_Please leave a review. I can't promise a quick update, but I promise I'm not holding it hostage!_


	10. Chapter 10: In a Sacred Place

_**A/N: **__Yay! I actually finished this update before the end of the year! LOL I was still so busy planning parties (I'm telling you… if over 200 babies are born every minute, I'm pretty sure I know most of them!), but I was feeling inspired to write, so my husband said if I felt inspired to write, I should ride that wave while I had it. I'm sleep deprived and my house is a box of creative chaos, but here's your next chapter. _

_Thanks again to those that added this story to your favorites even before it's finished! I appreciate your faith in me. And of course, to those that took a minute to share a review. You make my day!_

_Read on and enjoy!_

* * *

_**Chapter 10: In a Sacred Place**_

It wasn't until I reached the front porch of my bungalow that I realized I left the key in the pocket of my swim cover up which I had abandoned back at the beach. With my forehead pressed wearily against the door, I knocked, hoping Prim or my mother had come home since I left. When no one answered, my body gave up and slumped itself onto the doormat. I was completely spent – mentally, emotionally, and physically. All I wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep away all the thoughts and aches that were fighting their way into the forefront of my mind.

I didn't want to think about my cramping leg muscles, my sore shoulders, or how to keep the dam from bursting under the weight of the tears. I didn't want to think about how terrible of a teacher and friend I was to take Peeta out to swim today and not keeping a closer watch on him. I certainly didn't want to recall nearly losing him for good or the feelings that that event and those prior were triggering deep inside. So I just sat there, leaning against the door, elbows propped up on my knees, with my head cradled in my hands.

"You forgot this at the beach," Peeta said as he tentatively climbed up my porch as if approaching a wounded animal. He offered me my cover up which I quickly took and excavated in search of my key. Coming up empty handed, I dropped the garment down next to me, too exhausted to get frustrated. Peeta picked it back up and wrapped it around my still sparsely dressed and sodden frame and took a seat beside me on the floor. "Missing your keys?"

"Mm-hmm," I answered, my eyes shut tightly to avoid his.

We sat there silently for some time. I wasn't sure if it was because we didn't know what to say to each other or if we were simply lacking the energy to use our voices.

Peeta finally broke the silence, but with barely a whisper. "I'm really sorry, Katniss. It was a bad joke… with bad timing."

I gave my head a subtle shake. "No, it's not that."

"Then I'm sorry for making you feel like you owe me anyth –"

"It's not that either."

I could see Peeta in my periphery, searching his memory for an answer.

"For not following you?" I shook my head again. "For…" He hesitated, the words hanging on his lips, and I knew what was coming. "… not kissing you?"

The only response I could muster was a lone scoff. I _was _a little mad about that, but mostly, I was mortified that I even made the attempt. Mad at myself for even allowing the notion to cross my mind.

"Katniss, I don't know what you want me to say. I just hate seeing you so upset and if it was something I –"

"I'm just tired, Peeta."

Again, we sat without saying another word, but I could tell that Peeta was debating something in his head as evident by the complex choreography his eyebrows and mouth were performing.

"Do you… maybe want to come to my room… and rest while you wait for someone to come back home?"

"Peeta…" I said with a hint of warning in my voice.

"Katniss…" he repeated my tone mockingly. "C'mon, you're wet, barely clothed, fatigued, and locked out indefinitely. It's not the time to be all 'Miss Independent.' Now would you please come with me?"

He arose sluggishly, obviously still weak from his near death experience, and held his hands out to me. Not wanting to force him into overexerting himself, I opted for using the doorknob to pull myself up. A wave of hurt crossed his face, assuming I had rejected him, so I offered a timid smile to assuage his ego.

We slowly ambled our way to the main lodging like two injured soldiers returning from war. The sun had only just begun its descent, but a thick marine layer had rolled in, dropping the temperature significantly, at least for someone in desperate need of dry clothing. Thankfully, the building was not far from mine and his room was conveniently situated on the first floor.

As soon as Peeta let us into his room, he went directly to his dresser to rummage through his wardrobe and retrieved a pair of flannel pajama pants and a well-worn Detroit Pistons sweatshirt.

"Are these okay? Sorry, I don't have anything more… fitted," he said apologetically.

"They're perfect. Thanks." He gestured in the direction of the bathroom where I went to change. I removed my wet bathing suit and hung it on the shower curtain rod before shimmying into his warm clothing. I smiled at the reflection of myself in the mirror wearing a sweater reminiscent of home. The Pistons reminded me that, even though we had only gotten to know each other in this new, foreign place, Peeta and I shared roots.

When I exited the bathroom, I found Peeta already changed into sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, leaning over and fiddling with his laptop.

"Oh, I'm just tweeting about my resurrection," he jested then took notice of my lack of amusement. "Sorry, still too early for the jokes." He shut his laptop. "You look like you could use a nap. You're welcome to lie down on the bed."

"What about you? What are you going to do?" I perched on the edge of his bed.

He scanned the room.

"I'll just chill out on the bean bag," he replied with a shrug.

"Don't be stupid. _You're_ the one who almost d–" I stopped short, unable to say the word. Not with reverence and certainly not with Peeta's casual, humorous tone. "Come here. You need your rest too."

I crawled over to the head of the bed and pulled the striped covers down to burrow myself underneath them. Peeta, in turn, made his way to the opposite side of his king-size bed and plopped down on top of the covers. I knew he was probably just being a gentleman and wanting to put me at ease, but a small part of me couldn't help but feel disappointed – _offended_ even – that he chose to keep a solid boundary between us. Nonetheless, we both rolled onto our sides, facing our respective edges, our backs to one another.

"Hey, Katniss?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you… for saving me today."

I didn't reply. Instead, I let one nagging tear roll down my cheek as I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

All I wanted was to sleep off the memories of that event. To not think about it for an hour or two. But the images of Peeta bobbing face down in the water, his lips pale, his limp, unresponsive body lying on the ground filled my dreams.

"Breathe, Peeta, breathe! Please!" I could hear my own voice repeating, willing him to come back to life. Only, in my dream – no, my nightmare – he never does. I just pump his chest and blow puffs of air until I can't anymore, but his blue eyes never open. His once warm smile remains cold and purple.

"Peeta!" I cried again.

"Katniss?" I heard his voice, but his lips remained motionless. "Katniss, wake up!"

My eyes shot open. I found myself straddled over Peeta, my fists on his chest with his fingers wrapped around my wrists to restrain me, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Peeta?" I threw my ear to his chest searching for the reassurance of a steady heartbeat. It took a brief moment to regain my bearings. When I finally processed the compromising position I was in, I hastily dismounted myself and turned away from him. "Oh, my gosh, I'm sorry."

"I take it you were having a bad dream?" I glanced back in his direction and caught him rubbing his torso where I must have struck him.

I nodded. "Did I hurt you?"

He lifted his shirt to assess the damage. A few pink welts were beginning to form below his pecs, but he still denied the harm I caused him.

"Are you okay now?" he asked even though it seemed more appropriate to ask him.

"I am _now._"

I was sure Peeta thought it strange how traumatized I was by the situation. I was a lifeguard after all and saving drowning victims and administering CPR was just part of the job description. This wasn't even the first time I've had to do it either. I've jumped in to rescue many flailing non-swimmers. And last summer, I resuscitated a 50-year-old woman who had suffered a heart attack at the grocery store, but never had I ever needed to rescue someone I knew and cared about.

The phone on the bedside table next to me rang causing us both to jump in surprise. Peeta crawled across the bed and over my lap to reach for the receiver.

"Hello?" It felt a bit intrusive to be so close to him while he was on the phone, but his free arm was pinning my legs down. "Hey, Uncle Haymitch… oh, you heard about that? Yeah, we're alright… I promise, I feel _fine…_ Well, if it'll help you breathe easier – no pun intended – Uf!" I kneed him in the stomach and sternly mouthed the words 'not funny'. "Yes! Alright, I'm coming. I'll be there in five minutes."

Peeta hung the phone up and pushed himself off of me.

"Ugh. Gotta go see Haymitch. If he doesn't see me alive in the flesh soon, he's going to call my parents," he explained as he laced on his running shoes.

"Should I leave?" I asked, dropping my feet off the side of the bed.

"No, stay," Peeta insisted before heading out the door. "I'll be back shortly. Make yourself at home."

It was a strange feeling being left alone in a boy's room. It almost seemed sacred and intimate, never mind that I had just shared a bed with him just a few moments ago. But this was more. This wasn't about physical contact with a person. He not only trusted me to leave alone, but he basically invited me to a free for all of his most personal space. The silence in the room seemed to judge me.

I surveyed my surroundings more thoroughly than I had the first time I set foot in here. This time I noticed a few photographs pinned onto a bulletin board hanging over his desk . One was a photo of Peeta and Haymitch taken at Disneyland a couple of years ago. I only dated it by Peeta's scrawny appearance I remembered from the time just before he left Detroit. Below it was Peeta holding a trophy and being held up by several teammates, all clad in wrestling singlets. But the picture that drew the most attention was a worn photograph of a young Peeta dressed as a lion, posing next to his brothers and his parents in front of the P.S. 12 auditorium stage. Mrs. Mellark wasn't smiling, but his dad and brothers seemed genuinely happy for Peeta whose sparsely toothed grin could light up the entire stage.

I held this picture reverently knowing that he was probably keeping it as a reminder of a better, simpler, sweeter time. I couldn't help but feel admiration for this guy that clearly loved his family despite what they had put him through. This. This is that sacred insight that could be found in one's bedroom. I hung the photo back on its tack, being careful not to bend the brittle paper. When I pulled my hand away, that's when I saw it. In the corner of the photo, in the busy background of the auditorium was a flash of a checkered blue dress. It was me. Peeta had a photo of _me._

A smile began to play on my lips. I wondered if he was even aware that I was in the shot. The fleeting thought crossed my mind that maybe that was the real reason Peeta kept the picture, but I wiped the arrogant idea quickly from my mind. Who was I to Peeta anyway? And why did I care so much?

His laptop rested temptingly on his desktop, a treasure trove of secrets, its quiet hum telling me that it was still on and easily accessible. Gale was always telling me I was far too nosey for my own good. It was just good-natured teasing coming from him since there were really no secrets between us. At least, there used to be no secrets.

I had no idea he was going to kiss me before I left, nor what types of feelings might have been brewing that motivated said kiss. And what was I keeping from him? Well, where I was living, for starters. I hadn't called him since our first long-distance phone call and as far as I knew, he had no idea where to contact me. Guilt washed over me for being such a terrible friend. Every day for the last five years, Gale and I would touch bases and now I've allowed two whole months to pass without so much as a terse phone call or e-mail. _E-mail._ Why hadn't I thought to send him a quick note to update him?

I wanted to say that telling Gale what I've been up to all summer simply slipped my mind, but I'd know that wasn't true. I had been purposely avoiding any and all conversations that might bring up "where we stand" or having to tell him about my new friends here and how they're nothing like the kinds of people Gale or I would ever hang out with back home. In fact, they were the types we tried to avoid. I just couldn't bear hearing Gale's disapproval of the only people I had available to me and, to be honest, I actually _liked. _And while this life I had built in the short time we've been here feels safe and far from the reaches of Gale's judgment, there was one thing I was truly avoiding – Peeta. I wasn't sure whether Gale actually knew of Peeta or not since Gale never got the chance to go to school with him, but Peeta was where my two worlds collided; and while that brings me comfort while here in California, I simply was not ready to bring it under the scrutiny of the person whose opinion I valued most.

But maybe e-mail was the answer to my problem. Maybe I could say hello and tell him about the move to the country club and the new job. This way, I could avoid his line of questioning or the hurt tone in his voice that would inevitably make me feel guilty for going M.I.A.

I looked back at Peeta's laptop. Without wasting any more precious time mulling it over, I stuck my thumb in the groove and pulled the screen up. Thankfully, it was not protected by a password, so I easily navigated my way to his internet browser and opened up my sporadically used e-mail account. Without a computer at home, I was usually limited to the computer labs at the school or library, but since my social network consisted of those within arms' reach, I didn't typically need e-mail for personal use. The e-mail address was actually assigned to me by Mrs. Collins, my English teacher, for submitting writing assignments. Nonetheless, it was coming in handy for this particular situation.

What I didn't expect to find when I entered my account was an inbox full of messages from Gale. Of course he would try to e-mail me. Without a mobile phone or an updated home phone, where else would he be able to get hold of me? Great. Now there were 23 messages that will unquestionably contain a broad range of cheery greetings, informative updates, and angry demands for a response. But I didn't have time to read them. Peeta would be back any minute and, even though he probably wouldn't mind my borrowing his computer to send an e-mail, it would still feel awkward to get caught using it without his permission.

_Hey Gale!_

_So sorry I haven't been in touch. Been keeping pretty busy. Long story short, my grandparents invited us to stay at the country club for the summer, so we left the apartment, and I got a job as a lifeguard here. It's been okay. Had to save my first drowning victim today – _

I paused a moment to reassess my last sentence then thought better than to open up that subject. I held down the backspace key to take it back. It was better to avoid any potential questioning on the event. It would inevitably bring up Peeta.

_Been enjoying the great weather. Mom loves her job. Prim's made new friends – no surprise there. And I've finally rid myself of that wretched farmer's tan._

I heard the clicking of a key going into the door. In a panic, I hurried the last few words before sending it off.

_I'll write you more later! Miss you!_

_-Catnip_

Just as I was clicking on the 'X' in the top corner of the window, the door swung open and in walked Peeta carrying a white paper bag and two soda bottles.

"Hey…" he greeted me, he eyes inquisitive but not detectably angry.

"Hi." I shut his laptop closed and looked back at him sheepishly. "I-I hope you don't mind. I just borrowed it for a sec' to send an e-mail to someone back home."

Peeta put down the bag next to his computer and shrugged.

"Nah, it's cool. You're more than welcome to use it anytime." He balanced himself on the edge of the desk and casually leaned against the wall. "So, Haymitch says we both have the day off to recuperate tomorrow. But we're under strict orders _not _use the free time to do any vigorous training." I nodded in understanding. "You hungry? I grabbed a couple of the chicken pesto paninis from the restaurant – my personal favorite."

He opened the bag, releasing a mouthwatering aroma. I dug in with fervor, not realizing how famished I had gotten from the strenuous day we'd had. For a minute, we both sat in silence, savoring the taste of the sandwiches or the simple sensation of having food in our stomachs. I was in mid-bite when Peeta broke the peace.

"Gale?"

I stared at him in puzzlement. Or disbelief. Maybe even a little embarrassment.

"W-what?" I replied after swallowing my bite of food whole.

Peeta nodded in the direction of his laptop.

"That's who you were e-mailing?" His tone wasn't accusatory, but it still put me on edge. "I think that's his name, right? The quarterback?"

"Umm… yeah, how'd you know?" I asked, intensely picking at the lettuce that dangled from the side of my panini.

"Well, you two were inseparable. I just figured you were still together." Despite the casualness in his tone, his body language said otherwise. "Must be hard to be away from each other for so long."

I was taken aback by his sudden mention of Gale. For one thing, I didn't expect him to know who I had been e-mailing. For another thing, I didn't think he'd have any knowledge of who I was friends with back home after being gone for two years. Then Peeta's words finally registered.

"Wait, what do you mean _'still together'_?" I asked, my eyebrows knitted. "Gale and I are just friends. Best friends, actually."

"Oh," Peeta said with what I thought was a masked hint of relief. "Sorry. Everyone back home just assumed you two were an item. You were always together and sort of gave that air of being untouchable."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "Well, people are ignorant gossips."

We returned to eating our meal in blissful quietness, save for the crumpling of wax paper being peeled away from our sandwiches. Peeta took a swig of his Dr. Pepper before looking back at me with his head cocked.

"Really? You two _never_ had a thing?" He seemed skeptical of this fact. "Ever?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I fielded his awkward line of questioning.

"It's just hard to understand how a guy and girl who are as close as you two were could just stay platonic for so long without someone making a move eventually," he replied.

Well, I never said _that._

* * *

_Tell me what you think! (I was a teacher and an art major - I can even take constructive criticism!)_


	11. Chapter 11: The Date in Question

_**A/N:**__ I'm back! Glad ya'll seemed to enjoy the last chapter. I super-duper, really appreciate the adds and reviews. Thank you especially to __**TheGirlOnFire12**__ for your kind words and insight. Us humble writers really need the encouragement. This site needs more readers/writers like you!_

_Moving on… I have the majority of the last two chapters written. They've been on my mind for a while, so I finally decided to just write them out before I forget. But now I gotta get back on track with the current chapter and not leave you hanging. _

_This chapter's pretty heavy with the dialogue. What can I say? I *heart* banter._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters. This fiction is for entertainment purposes only. The original quote that is used in this chapter also belongs to the amazing Suzanne Collins._

* * *

_**Chapter 11: The Date in Question**_

"Surprise!"

I rubbed my eyes and gradually opened them, weaning them into the light of the morning. I found my mother and Prim sitting at the foot of my bed holding a tray of food for me.

"Breakfast in bed? What's this for?" I ask, slowly pushing myself up into a sitting position.

"I ran into Haymitch Abernathy on my way back from my nightshift this morning. He told me what you did for Peeta yesterday," she explained. "I just wanted to tell you how proud of you I am. Could we have another nurse or doctor in the making?"

I lifted the cover off the plate and sniffed the strawberry and banana crepes. A small vase with yellow tulips adorned the fancy setting. Room service went all out, apparently.

"Maybe, Mom, but it's not me. It's Prim you should be pressuring."

"I do want to be a doctor one day, but Katniss is already a hero," Prim beamed.

I blushed. I was no hero. Tragic hero, maybe, but not the kind that deserves praise or breakfast in bed. The only people I was saving were the ones I, myself, put in danger.

"Please," I deflected, rolling my eyes at my sister. "Can you both stop making a big fuss over it?"

My mom patted my leg and got up to leave.

"Okay, sweetie. I should probably shower and change. I still reek of antiseptic. You enjoy your breakfast and day off, Katniss. Just wake me up if you need anything," she said before she retreated to her room for her nocturnal bedtime ritual.

I turned back to Prim whose face was lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. She had her knees pulled up to her chest in anticipation of something. What? I didn't know.

"Do you want some?" I asked her, gesturing towards the tray of food. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head decisively. "Well, you want something. Spit it out, Little Duck."

Her eyes darted back to the tray as she gave a sly smile. "Well? Aren't you going to read it?" she asked excitedly.

"Read what?" I followed her gaze to the small tent card tucked into the stems of the tulips. "Did _you_ read it?"

"Nooo!" Prim retorted with mock resentment. "But I bet I know who it's from."

I removed the card from its nest and lifted the flap to reveal the carefully handwritten note.

_To my knight in dripping swimsuit,_

_Since we've both got the day off today, how about a movie? My treat?_

_- Peeta_

I folded the card back up and slid it underneath the plate before grabbing a fork and digging into the crepes. I could feel Prim's eyes boring into me without even looking back at her.

"So?" she finally asked.

"So?" I tried a say nonchalantly.

"What did Peeta say?"

I shrugged. "Who said it was from Peeta?"

"The goofy grin you can't wipe off your face says it was from Peeta!" she teased. "Besides, who else would send you flowers?"

She grabbed hold of the forkful of food that was still in my hand and intercepted my bite. I, in turn, snatched it back and stuck my tongue out at her.

"He just asked to hang out. No big deal," I finally admitted indifferently.

"On a _date_?"

"No, not a date. Just hanging out," I reinforced.

"Is he paying?" she asked wide-eyed.

"Yeah, so?" I was losing my ground on this one. I could feel it.

"Then it's a date!" Prim determined.

I scowled at her.

"You're twelve. What do _you_ know about dates?" I asked indignantly.

"I know that if a guy gives you flowers and asks you to go 'hang out' with him and offers to pay, then it's a date!"

It was quiet for a moment and, judging by the smirk on Prim's face, my sister was quite satisfied with herself.

"You know," I finally announced after a long lull. "I think I'd rather hang out with my little sis today. I've been so busy working and training, I feel like I've hardly seen you."

Prim was already perusing the closet for a change of clothes. "Sorry. No can do. I'm going over to Rue's house today. She's taking me out to their private vineyard and we're going to harvest some grapes!"

Sometimes I envied my sister and her ability to make friends and enjoy life. I didn't have that luxury at her age and I'm so conditioned to think that fun and friends are luxuries I can't afford that I end up shutting out the rest of the world. But Prim opens herself up without filters and people just gravitate towards her. That's what I loved most about my sister, but she and I are polar opposites.

The only people I had allowed into my world - aside from Gale, of course - were Delly, Madge, and Peeta, and even those three were not exempt from the guarded version of Katniss. As far back into the summer as I could see, I don't remember doing anything for fun. The single party I had been dragged out too, I spent half-drunk and avoiding people. The gala I was forced to attend was an epic fail. And even all the time I'd been spending with Peeta was more business than pleasure. As I washed up in the bathroom, I resolved to go out and do something fun, even if it could possibly mean going on a sort-of-date.

"Katniss?" Prim knocked on the bathroom door. "Peeta's at the door for you."

I spat out the toothpaste foam from my mouth and rinsed before joining them in the living room.

"G'morning!" Peeta was already looking much better than he did yesterday. He was casually dressed in dark jeans and a green button-up shirt that was not branded with the name of the club. His sun-kissed complexion had fully returned and the bright smile on his face showed no signs of lethargy.

I, on the other hand, was still dressed in my sleeping shorts and Peeta's sweatshirt, my matted hair knotted unsystematically on top of my head.

"Morning. What brings you here?" I asked, pulling his sweater down in a futile effort to cover my exposed legs.

Peeta chuckled. "I'm not gonna get that back, am I?"

I looked down at the article in question, my cheeks reddening.

"Sorry. I'll change." I turned to head back towards my bedroom.

"Nah, don't worry about it. Keep it as long as you want," he offered. "I don't look nearly as hot in it, anyway."

Peeta and I just gawked at each other in mutual shock.

"Ahem." We both turned our attention to Prim who we'd forgotten was still in the room with us, witnessing the whole awkward exchange. Great. As if she didn't already have enough delusions of affection. "Well, I'm going to go call Ms. Atala to see what time she's picking me up. If you two will excuse me."

I invited Peeta to sit down on the couch as I seated myself on the armchair across him, pulling my legs up under me. He settled back into the plush cushions, crossing an ankle over the opposite leg and propping his arm on the back of the couch. When his attempt to appear cool and casual failed, he readjusted himself so that he was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"So, umm… did you get the flowers I sent you?"

"Yes, I did." I smiled with amusement watching him continue to fidget.

"I hope you like tulips. I thought roses might be too much and I've never really been a fan of the smell of lilies. The on campus gift shop only had so many choi –"

"They were beautiful, Peeta. Thank you," I interrupted his rambling to put him out of him obvious misery. "But I'm a simple girl. Dandelions would've suited me fine."

"The _weed_?"

"The _promise_," I clarified. "That life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again."

"Why, Katniss Everdeen," Peeta said perceptively. "You're not such a cynic after all."

I rolled my eyes in exasperation and threw a pillow in his direction. "Shut up, Peeta. What are you doing here anyway?"

"And, she's back," he said with a wink. "Alright, all kidding aside, I'm here to follow up on my little note. So… you got plans?"

My reflexes were shouting for me to make up an excuse to turn him down, but I recalled the resolution I had made to myself earlier, so I steeled myself for my affirmative answer.

"Yes."

Peeta's face contorted in confusion. "Yes, you have plans?"

"No. I meant 'yes' – I mean, no, I don't have plans. Yes, I'll go watch a movie." He turned his eyes upward, mouthing quietly to himself as if retracing the meaning of my answer. "Okay, while you mull that one over, I'm gonna go get dressed."

I found Prim in our room already laying out an outfit for me on my bed. The blouse was one my grandmother had picked out but I hadn't had the occasion –or courage – to wear. It was girly and lacy and a little too low cut for my taste even though it was probably still modest by society's standards. Prim had paired it with skinny jeans.

"You want me to wear _that_?" I asked skeptically.

"Yes. You should look pretty for your date," she replied matter-of-factly. "You're going to have to do something about that hair though."

"It's not a date, Prim." I leaned out the door and called out down the hall. "Peeta, would you please tell my annoying little sister that this is _not_ a date?"

Peeta wandered into the hallway, amusement plastered on his face.

"It's not?" he asked, giving Prim a conspiratorial look, sending her into fits of giggles.

"I reasoned that if you give a girl flowers, ask to go out and pay for her, it's a date, right?" Prim recapped.

"That seems completely reasonable to me," Peeta concurred.

I leaned against the doorway, crossing my arms and pouting my lips. I certainly was not fond of this new alliance that was forming between my sister and my… whatever Peeta was.

"You gave her flowers, did you not?" my sister continued.

"That I did," Peeta nodded.

"You asked her out?"

"To the movies, more specifically."

My eyes volleyed back and forth between the cohorts. I was on the verge of suggesting they both go on this date without me.

"And you're paying?" Prim asked, knowing the answer.

"Absolutely."

"Well, if it looks like a duck and sounds like a duck, then it must be…"

"My nosy little sister!" I concluded for her just before slamming the bedroom door shut on both of them.

I could hear them busting up with laughter out in the hall until another door opened and my mother's groggy voice could be heard questioning them. Peeta and Prim apologized profusely before her door closed once again and my doorknob slowly turned. I expected my sister to be making her case to placate me, but instead, a different blue-eyed blonde let himself in.

"Are you mad?" he asked. When I didn't reply, he began again. "We were just playing around with you. I'm sorry I got a little wrapped up in teaming up with your sister. It's been a while since I've had siblings around."

I shrugged to show my indifference. Truth be told, it really wasn't a big deal. I don't even know why I got so worked up over it. Peeta just had this way of unnerving me and taking me out of my comfort zone. I didn't really like how easy Prim's chemistry was with him. Then again, Prim was that way with everyone.

"It doesn't have to be a date if you don't want it to be," he persisted.

I looked at him quizzically. "What exactly did _you_ intend for it to be?"

"Honestly?" Peeta released a long, slow breath. "I just wanted to spend time with you. I offered to pay because…"

"Please don't say you owe me for yesterday," I interjected.

"…because I didn't want you to say 'no.' Simple as that. No date, no debt."

Peeta left me to finish getting ready and I quickly worked on plaiting my hair and slipping into the outfit Prim chose for me. After another quick check in the mirror, I decided on a light dusting of blush and coat of lip gloss before coming out to meet Peeta who was now sitting at the kitchen counter doodling on a Post-it note while Prim dejectedly hung up from her phone call.

"What's the matter, Prim?" I asked, stuffing my wallet, lip gloss, and half-eaten packet of Skittles into my purse.

"Oh, that was Rue's mom. Rue hasn't been feeling too well and she's had a fever all morning. Guess I won't be going to her house today," she sighed.

"Hey, then why don't you come with us to the movies?" Peeta suggested without hesitation.

Prim looked back and forth between Peeta and me and replied, "No, it's okay. I don't want to ruin your date."

Peeta and I both replied in unison, "It's not a date!"

* * *

If there was one thing about shopping I knew, it was that, if they didn't show the prices, then it was probably too expensive. Prim and I stood in front of the theater concession stand, our eyes glazed over at the menu options – nachos, churros, soft pretzels, hot dogs, pizza, chicken strips, and curly fries.

"I think the last time we went to a theater to watch a movie, the only food choices were popcorn and Junior Mints," I murmured to my sister.

"You ladies see anything you like?" Peeta returned from the restroom and joined us at the counter.

"I want nachos!" Prim declared, unabashed.

I nudged her for her brazenness and turned back to Peeta apologetically. "I'll pay for her. Sorry."

"No, don't worry about it. It'll be my pleasure," Peeta reassured me. "Anything else? Don't be shy."

"I don't know. Popcorn, I guess." I knew many people who were being treated would easily take advantage of the chance to indulge, but I've just never been one to take hand-outs easily. I didn't want to offend Peeta by turning down every offer, but I figured, the most minimal of gifts should probably sit alright in my conscience.

"Why don't you and Prim go on ahead and save some seats. I'll come bring the food," Peeta instructed and Prim and I complied.

We found three open seats in the center of the theater and waited for Peeta to arrive.

"I like him," Prim whispered in my ear. "Peeta. He's really nice."

"Well, I'm glad you like him. He's your date, after all," I teased back at her. She scrunched her face in response. "What? He invited you out and paid for you, didn't he?"

Prim giggled as I poked her side. "Okay, okay. I got your point. But I don't see why you're so against going on a date with him. He's cute and he's sweet."

"Ssshh!" someone behind us hissed.

I turned to mouth the word 'sorry' when a large bucket of popcorn landed in my lap and a tray of nachos crossed over to Prim.

"What'd I miss?" Peeta asked.

I leaned towards him to whisper in his ear just as he turned to look at me.

"Ow!" we both yelped when our foreheads and noses bumped.

"SSSSH!" the other movie-goer demanded again.

"Nothing much. Just _that,_" I gestured behind us as we rubbed our throbbing heads. Our faces, still just inches apart, lingered a moment heavy with tension.

After we'd finally torn apart our gazes and focused our attention back to the G-rated movie we chose for Prim's sake, I purposely avoided Peeta's direction for a good half hour. I nursed the growing lump on my forehead with an ice-laden cup of soda until the thick condensation warned me that my Coke would soon become watered down.

_Brave_ turned out to be pretty entertaining once I allowed myself to pay attention it. I really admired strong, free-spirited characters like Merida who lived her life on her own terms. Plus, she was pretty kick ass with that bow and arrow. It almost made me want to take up archery someday. But that was impractical and Katniss Everdeen didn't allow herself to partake in frivolous activities. My reverie was interrupted when I felt the stroke of another hand against mine as I reached for a handful of popcorn. We both froze. I should've ripped my hand away out of politeness, but I couldn't. I was too curious, too captivated by the sensation of his skin against mine. After an unnatural length of time, Peeta was the first to pull his hand out of the popcorn bucket. I did the same, never looking at him to acknowledge the incident.

When the movie ended, Peeta treated us to a few games in the arcade. He whooped my sister and me in Skeeball, but Prim put him to shame during a few awkward, uncoordinated rounds of Dance Dance Revolution. I knew better than to even attempt what vaguely passed as "dancing", but the view from behind of Peeta tripping over his own feet while Prim moved in fluid, rhythmic motions was worth sitting it out. Afterwards, he felt the need to redeem himself with a game he was more familiar with, so he challenged me to a shootout in Duck Hunt. Peeta was quick to regret throwing down with me when I took down 95% of my targets right in the eye.

Before we headed back home, we stopped at greasy, hole-in-the-wall Mexican food joint, where Peeta pointed out that "if it's not at least a little run down, then it's not authentic." He introduced us to something call a California burrito which I thought was probably some gimmick to get unsuspecting tourists like me to order, but – Oh. My. Gosh. Who would've thought that stuffing French fries into a grilled steak burrito could be so divine? That was, hands down, the best local cuisine I'd had all summer, and I told Peeta as much. He promised to take me back at least once a week.

After we returned to the country club, Peeta walked with Prim and me all the way back to our bungalow, passing his own room on the way. When we had made it to our front door, Prim wrapped her arms around Peeta's waist without hesitation, taking both of us elders by surprise.

"Thanks for letting me come, Peeta. I had lots of fun," she told him before unlocking the door and leaving us out on the porch.

I turned to Peeta and gave him a shy smile. "You know, you're not doing a very good job of convincing that girl this wasn't supposed to be a date if you're walking us to the door," I said jokingly.

He held his hands up in the air and replied, "I'm just being a gentleman. No strings attached. I promise. Besides, it's only a date if there's a kiss at the door."

Continuing our banter, I raised my eyebrows and said, "Even a _bad _date?"

He looked up thoughtfully and smirked. "I don't know. I don't think I've ever gone on a very bad date. I have good taste."

We both laughed. "Well, thank you for the fun afternoon. Prim really enjoyed herself."

"And you?" he asked hopefully.

"I had a really great time, too," I added for his reassurance. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

And without further thought, I leaned forward and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek then slipped away through my front door

* * *

_I'd love to hear more thoughts on the story. Please feel __obligated__ - ahem, I mean,** free** - to leave a comment below! Haha Just kidding, but I'll love you more if you do! Thanks!_


	12. Chapter 12: Truth or Dare

_**A/N: **__D'aww… thanks for the love, y'all. See? You guys got me so inspired with all the faves, reviews, and PMs, I've already finished another chapter in 2 days (that's lightning speed for me)! _

_So... I'm getting the impression that many of you reading and writing in the HG fandom are teens and college students. Makes me feel like an old fart at 31! I bet if you saw me in person, you'd mistake me for 16 like so many people do! Anyway, my point is, it's been a long time since I was 16 years old, so my recollection of a 16-year-old's experiences is kind of fuzzy. And I'm sure 1997 is a lot different from 2012… or 2705 in Panem, for that matter. So forgive me if no one plays Truth or Dare anymore. My friend's 7-year-old just learned how to play M.A.S.H. from her classmate and we were so ecstatic that that game is still around! But I digress._

_Onto the story…_

* * *

_**Chapter 12: **__**Truth or Dare**_

The triathlon was soon approaching and Peeta and I were feeling fairly confident about our training. I had twisted my ankle on one of our practice runs, but my mother said it didn't look like a sprain and that I should expect to be alright by race day. However, I did decide to lay off of running in the meantime and stuck with swimming laps in the pool until the pain completely subsided. The cycling portion was trickier since Peeta and I were both obligated to participate in it, but a few days off shouldn't hurt me too much since I've been a bicyclist most of my life. Even living in "Motor City" didn't affect my reliance on two wheels to get around.

I didn't realize how big of an event this whole thing was to the community. I assumed people signed up, showed up on race day, then the winner was sent home with a check. Apparently, Seneca Crane hosted a few events surrounding the race to fluff up the competition. Well, he said it was an opportunity for the teams to _bond_ and celebrate the mark of summer's end, but the feeling I was getting from Peeta, Delly, Thresh, and a few others that had participated in the past was that these events were set up so competitors could size up their opposition. Trash talk was not only condoned, it was encouraged.

The first pre-race affair was a pool party at the Crane Estate the day before the main event. The second was a post-race dance held at the country club. Neither of which sounded the least bit appealing to me, but Peeta informed me that, win or lose, participation was "strongly encouraged." In other words, we were required to attend.

Peeta had called me the night before the pool party to let me know he was going to be heading out to Crane's early to help Delly set up the food. The club's restaurant was in charge of catering the event but since they were keeping the restaurant open that night, some of the other Sunset Shores staff members were going to be on hand to help set up and serve at the pool party. Delly was among the staff assigned to the pool party which she didn't seem all too disappointed about. Since she was no longer participating as a competitor, she was actually bummed out about missing the party and dance. I told her she was more than welcome to take my place for those events, but instead, she settled for donning the white shirt and black tie as part of the staff. Peeta, being the ever present helper, gladly volunteered to lend a hand to our friend despite his "honored guest" status.

Unfortunately, that left me to fend for transportation, but my grandmother was more than happy to oblige. When we pulled up to the large, iron gate at the entrance of the Crane Estate, we felt extremely small and insignificant, even in my grandmother's BMW. The gates were opened for us and we continued our slow drive up the winding cobblestone driveway to the grandiose mansion at the top of the hill. Grandmother killed her engine to come inside with me, but I politely informed her that I was capable of going by myself – which I totally wasn't, but being escorted by my grandmother would have brought far more discomfort in this situation. Thankfully, a red-haired man in a tuxedo was standing at the foot of the stairs, offering his arm to escort me instead.

I was about to follow him up the marble stairs when I spotted a Sunset Shores Country Club delivery van parked on the west end of the drive. Its back doors were left open as if it were still being unloaded. I stopped my escort and pointed in the direction of the van.

"Sorry, I think my friends might be over in that direction." I release my hand from the crook of his arm. "Excuse me. I think I'll check for them first."

He obliged with a silent bow of his head while I trudged over towards the delivery van hoping to find Peeta and Delly. The van and its contents were unattended, but nearby a pair of French doors at the side of the house were wide open. I could hear a male and female voice coming from inside, so I followed the paved walkway to see if Peeta and Delly were there.

As I came upon the open doors, I could hear Delly's voice crystal clear, her proclamation stopping me in my path.

"Peeta Mellark, you _like _her!" I pressed myself against the side of the house, careful not to contact the prickly rose bushes that hugged the brick walls.

"Is it that obvious?" Peeta replied. I probably should have just made my presence known instead of prowling around like a creepy stalker, but curiosity was getting the better of me.

"About as obvious as it is that she likes you," Delly stated.

My mind began to wonder who "she" could be. Was it someone I knew? Glimmer? Madge? If I had to choose between them, Glimmer was the only one that had a blatant crush on Peeta. He was nice to her even when her flirting was obnoxious, but I always interpreted it as politeness, not mutual attraction. I remember Peeta blushing a little when Delly, Madge, and I showed up at his room, but as far as I could tell, Madge never showed any particular interest in Peeta. I'm pretty sure it wasn't _me_ Delly was referring to because I didn't like Peeta in that way. At least, I didn't think I did, but either way, I'm sure I wasn't being obvious about my feelings since I'm not even sure there are any.

"You think she actually likes me?" Peeta said with uncertainty. His modesty was endearing. "Hey, did we bring the large punchbowls? I don't see them here."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I packed them. Check the van," Delly instructed.

I knew I needed to get out of there in a hurry so I wouldn't get caught eavesdropping. There was no way I'd get out of there without being spotted, so I just pushed off the wall and tried my best to look like I was casually heading down the path.

"Katniss!" Peeta exclaimed when he came outside. "You made it! What are you doing over here? The party's getting set up in the back."

"Umm, I saw the delivery van and thought I'd look for you and Delly," I said, stuffing my hands into the back pockets of my shorts. "I don't really know anyone else here."

"Sorry I ditched you," he said apologetically. "You wanna come help me unload a few more things then I'll go back with you?"

I followed Peeta to the van, grabbing a bin of serving utensils and letting Peeta stack some white linens on top before heading back to the open French doors that apparently led to some sort of receiving room off the kitchen that Delly called a "butler's pantry." Peeta followed a few steps behind me toting two glass punchbowls which he carefully placed on the countertop.

"Hey, Del, sorry to leave you high and dry, but I'm gonna go with Katniss to the pool now," he told her.

Delly looked up at us with an odd smile and simply replied, "Mm-hmm!"

Her wordless response was dripping with hidden meaning.

"Hey, don't blame me for losing your VIP invitation. You're the one that pawned me off on Katniss, remember?" Peeta teased.

Delly began unfolding the linens I brought in to loosen up the creases. "Good thing, too. _I_ would've let you drown."

"Delly!" I scolded reflexively.

She and Peeta laughed.

"It's okay, Katniss. It's just how we joke with one another. She didn't mean it," Peeta explained, but turned back to our mutual friend. "It's kind of a sore subject. Pretty traumatic day for us both."

Delly seemed to understand because she dropped the sheets to come and give me a hug. As much as I liked Delly, I didn't quite know how to handle this much affection. She didn't appear to be bothered by my rigidity or lack of reciprocation, so she let her hug linger before freeing me to go with Peeta to the pool area.

The swimming pool at the Crane estate far exceeded any stretch of my imagination. Its sheer size was large enough to house all twenty-four competitors, giving each of us enough room to have a clear lane to swim across. It's a wonder they didn't just decide to hold the race here instead of the beach. Along the sides of the pool were alternating topiary trees and pristine white statues spitting arches of water into the pool. The far end had no wall, making the water appear to blend into the ocean view beyond it.

Most of the guests were already stripped down to their swimsuits, splashing playfully or lounging on inflatable floats, leisurely sipping on virgin cocktails. Top 40 hits were blaring over the speakers disguised as rocks while servers I recognized from the club wandered around with trays of drinks and appetizers.

"Welcome to my home, Mr. Mellark," a tall, lanky man with dark hair slicked back and a perfectly sculpted goatee came up to greet us. "And you, my dear, must be Katniss Everdeen."

I reached my hand out to shake his extended one, but he turned it downward and bowed to kiss the back of my wrist. I've never had anyone ever actually kiss my hand before, but the feeling of this man with these beady eyes who looked to be in his early 40s touching his lips to me, made my skin crawl. I shrugged my shoulders to hide my shudder.

"Yup, that's me," I replied with forced breeziness.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Everdeen. Seneca Crane," he said with a sinister grin. "But I'm sure you already guessed that."

"Thank you, again, for having us in your home, Mr. Crane," Peeta replied effortlessly.

Seneca gave Peeta a terse nod, dismissing him and turning his unnerving gaze back towards me. "So I hear you are from Detroit, Michigan. How are you liking California so far?"

"It's different. Bigger," I answered, keeping my answers curt so as not to invite more conversation.

He flashed his unnaturally white teeth and said, "Well, if you and Peeta win the race tomorrow, we'll see if we can woo you to stay with a scholarship, hmm?"

I smiled back uncomfortably, taking hold of Peeta's elbow for protection. He reached over his other hand to pat the one I had giving him the death grip, and intuitively led me away from our host.

"Calm down, Katniss. Remember, this party is just for show. They throw us all together so we can size up the competition," Peeta reminded me.

"I think it's pretty clear we're at the bottom of the food chain here."

"It's not about social status or where you're from. Heck, today's not even about how much strength or talent you have. This thing is just a staring contest, really. And no one does a stare down better than you, so just be yourself, Katniss."

* * *

As it turned out, the enormity of the swimming pool didn't seem to matter. At some point, we all ended up congregated around the hot tub. The twelve of us that remained after the first couple hours anyway - Cato, Clove, Thresh, Cecilia, Woof, Foxy, Brutus, Enobaria, Chaff, Seeder, Peeta, and me. Some of the serious competitors left to continue their final training elsewhere. Marvel and Glimmer arrived somewhere in the middle to wish us all good luck, and ended up staying to hang out with their friends that were in the contest.

"I have an idea," Glimmer proposed. "How about a good ol' game of Truth or Dare?"

"What are you, twelve?" Enobaria sneered at her.

Glimmer rolled her eyes and tossed her hair aside in defiance. "Shut up, you old hag. Nobody cares what _you_ think."

"I'm game," Clove chimed in, clearly in defense of her best friend.

Everyone else followed up with indifferent shrugs and nods.

"Okay, me first." Glimmer turned to her brother next to her. "Marvel, truth or dare?"

"Dare, all the way, baby! Wooo!" he screamed obnoxiously pumping his arms like a drunk frat boy.

"I got this one, G." Cato pushed the back of his hand against Glimmer's shoulder. "Marvel, I dare you to go to the stable and ride your old horse over here…"

Marvel looked at Cato in disbelief. "Seriously, dude? That's it? You're so lame!"

"…in your birthday suit," Cato concluded.

Marvel disappeared for about ten minutes until we heard the clopping sounds of horseshoes on the pool deck accompanied by Marvel's wild hooting. I didn't dare turn in his direction, but judging by the amused cheers and laughter coming from everyone else, I was sure he completed his dare to a 'T'.

Thankfully, Marvel returned, clothed once again in his board shorts and Billabong t-shirt. He settled himself back on the edge of the hot tub, submerging his legs next to Peeta.

"Alright, my turn. Peet, truth or dare?"

"Mmm… I guess I'll choose 'truth,'" Peeta decided.

"Alright, since it's the first round, we'll keep it simple. If you could hook up with _anyone –_ in real life or a celebrity – who would you choose?" Marvel asked.

"No fictional characters?" Peeta joked back.

"No. Actresses who play them, sure. But you have to choose a real person." Marvel was beginning to get impatient with him.

"Well," Peeta began after a few moments' thought. "There _is_ someone I've had a crush on forever. Since the very first time I heard her sing."

"Great. If you cop out and give some boring, cliché answer like 'Taylor Swift', I'm seriously going to bust your kneecap before the race!" Cato threatened him.

Peeta bit his lip and squirmed in his seat. I don't know if it was to keep himself from telling off Cato for being a douche or if he was just steeling himself for revealing his answer. I could care less what dim-witted pop sensation he chose to be his hypothetical hook up.

"If there was just one person in the world I could choose to be with, barring any impossible limitations, I'd choose…" Peeta had finally begun to answer, "Katniss."

It was barely a whisper. I don't think anyone else event caught it, but since I was sitting next to him, I was fairly certain of what I heard.

"Who?" Marvel asked for clarification.

"Katniss," Peeta repeated. I could see him in my periphery, looking in my direction, searching for a reaction, but I gave him none. I just kept my eyes trained on the foam churning around on the surface of the water.

"Ugh," I heard Glimmer scoff.

"Hell _yeah_! I'd tap that," Cato hollered, inducing icy, disgusted glares from Peeta, Clove, and me. Peeta was on his feet in a second and before we knew it, he had shoved Cato onto the deck. Cato's expression showed that he wasn't at all surprised by Peeta's reaction. In fact, he looked like he was purposely egging him on. "What are you gonna do? You wanna punch me? Go ahead."

Peeta gave him one last shove before stepping away and spat out, "Forget it, Cato. I know you're trying to get us disqualified, but don't worry. We're gonna kick your butt in the race tomorrow."

I took the scuffle as a diversion and started to sneak away from the circle of contestants.

"Where're you going, Katniss?" Glimmer's contemptuous voice called after me. "It's your turn."

I turned back to the group, narrowing my eyes at Glimmer. It was clear she wasn't happy with Peeta's revelation.

"Oh, we're still playing this stupid game?" I asked, reluctantly returning to perch myself on top step of the hot tub, a few feet away from Peeta this time.

"What are you afraid to admit, Kat-nissss?" she taunted, hissing my name as if just saying it disgusted her. "What do you say, truth or dare?"

I knew she was going to try to corner me into admitting some sort of feelings for Peeta. I could honestly answer that I wasn't in love with him or anything, but the truth was, I really wasn't sure what this stirring inside was. And since Peeta's admission, I was beginning to feel this gnawing in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't put words together to define this feeling and even if I could, I wouldn't want to – not in front of this group. I would do anything else – climb up to the roof of the stable, skinny dip across the pool, make out with one of the statues – but I wouldn't give this group of strangers and enemies, the satisfaction of psychoanalyzing my feelings.

"Dare."

A few of the other girls leaned in to confer with Glimmer. Whatever they were suggesting didn't seem to go over well with her judging by the petulant scowl she was wearing. Clove seemed to be providing her with some sort of explanation before they finally turned the attention back to me.

"I dare you," Clove said smugly. "To kiss Peeta… for fifteen seconds."

"With tongue!" Foxy added.

Maybe I hadn't thought out all the options thoroughly. I figured they would have chosen something that would either humiliate me or cause possibly injury to the race. This was the game we were playing, wasn't it? This dare seemed more like they were just trying to give Peeta what he wanted, but after the brief brawl that just took place, it was even more evident that we were here as rivals, not friends. Then I realized. That was their plan all along – to both humiliate me and hurt our game. Forcing Peeta and me to face the tension of our conflicting emotions would definitely hurt us as a team. We had worked so hard together to learn our strengths and weaknesses, to read one another, to focus on nothing else but the prize. And now we were unraveling into a discombobulated mess. At least _I_ was.

"Tick tock!" Clove pressed, tapping the imaginary watch on her wrist.

I stood up from my seat, adjusting my bikini top and putting on a mask of bravado. I was determined not to let them know they were getting the better of me. At this point, the competition was all mental – one I hadn't trained for – but I was resolute in winning this battle too. I waded across the simmering water and I stood in front of Peeta with my hands on my hips.

"Katniss, you don't have to – "

"Stand up, Peeta," I ordered him, icily. Peeta got to his feet timidly.

"Kat – "

I grabbed Peeta's face and pressed my lips urgently against his. He was hesitant at first, but slowly melted into my movements, triggering rounds of hoots and hollers from the company around us. I shut my eyes in hopes of blocking out their presence, but it only made me that much more aware of Peeta – the tenderness of his lips on mine, his teasing tongue gently requesting entrance, his hands under the water tentatively resting on my hips. The only other time I had this same mouth against mine, I was trying with all I had to bring them to life. But somehow, despite my efforts to objectify him, he was now bringing me to life. The desperation I had felt that day of the rescue returned. I grabbed hold of his tank top, bunching the fabric in my fists and pulling him close enough to feel that comforting beat of his heart.

"…three…two…one…time's up!"

Peeta's grip tightened on my back and I didn't fight it.

"Ahem!" Glimmer cleared her throat melodramatically. "Thank you! You're done!"

With my eyes still forcefully shut, I pulled myself away from him. I was afraid to open them again. To see the expression on his face, and having to bear the weight of responsibility for how Peeta felt about it, about me. I was afraid to look into those blue eyes and force myself to define the thoughts that were swirling in my head. So I kept my gaze level with his chest, smoothing out the crinkles I left on the front of his shirt.

"Thank you," I whispered to him, not really knowing what I was thanking him for.

The rest of the group quickly grew bored of us and had proceeded with the next player in their juvenile game. I reclaimed the seat next to Peeta but continued to avoid eye contact with him. Our knees brushed against each other and a tingling feeling overtook me. Maybe it was just the bubbles popping on the surface of my skin or maybe… Peeta shifted himself, pushing his hands down for leverage. His left hand landed on my right and I responded by spreading my fingers to allow his to intertwine with mine.

We sat that way for the duration of the party. On the surface our eyes never met, our faces remained stoic. But below the water's surface, our hands locked, our legs caressed. Then I recalled Delly's earlier words lending definition to the feelings I couldn't articulate.

"_About as obvious as it is that she likes you."_

* * *

_Did you like it? Hate it? Tell me why! I'll do a little Gangnam Style celebratory dance in your honor, I promise. :P_


	13. Chapter 13: Locked Away

_**A/N: **__Wooooooot! I passed 100 reviews! You guys rock! That definitely warranted a happy Gangnam dance, which I wholeheartedly did for you! __Just check my animated gif if you want proof - **imgflip (dot - com) / i / 5dw2**_ (_Remove spaces) My husband totally made fun of me._

_Anyway, here's a chapter that's a little bit longer and I might have poured some Downy on my laptop coz this chapter feels a little fluffier than usual too! Thank you, thank you, I'm here all night. lol_

_To the kind, anonymous reviewer that will be stuck in a hotel room all weekend – Wish I could PM you, but since I can't, this chapter's updated just for you. :) _

_Well, and a few others too._

_(Sorry for the double update. Found a couple errors that really bugged me AFTER I posted! Figures...)_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters. This fiction is for entertainment purposes only. Hope you're thoroughly entertained! Enjoy!_

* * *

_**Chapter 13: Locked Away**_

They were right. That kiss totally screwed with my head. Race day was finally upon us. We had to get our heads in the game, keep focused, channel all our strength and energy into the event, and all I could think about was kissing Peeta.

After the pool party, we didn't talk about what happened. In fact, the entire ride home was spent in complete silence. I expected him to ask me about it or apologize in the way he was so good at. I wanted to know what he thought of it. Could he tell I wanted it? Or did he think it was just an act during a childish game, devoid of any true feelings? I wanted to know how long he'd felt the way he did about me. I wanted to know _why_ he felt that way. I wanted to know what he now expected from me. But I never asked him these questions and he never volunteered the answers willingly. He walked me back to my door, but didn't offer another kiss to bid me good night. One tender stroke down my arm and he was gone.

Needless to say, I had a restless night, my mind racing with uncertainty. When I woke this morning, my head felt like it was going to explode, my body felt like it was going to collapse, and my eyes could hardly stay open. I had clearly lost the mind game.

Peeta was quiet and contemplative all morning, barely speaking a few terse words over the breakfast table which Haymitch had so kindly prearranged for us. Peeta stuffed himself continuously with the carb-heavy buffet of pancakes, toast, oatmeal, muffins, and diced potatoes, keeping his mouth preoccupied the entire time while I leisurely cut my food into bite-size pieces before savoring each morsel.

"So, how'd you sleep last night?" I asked trying to make idle conversation.

Peeta shrugged. "Okay. You?"

I shook my head. "I had a lot on my mind."

I didn't need to give any more explanation than that. Peeta was well aware of what I had spent the night tossing and turning over. While he lacked the telltale eye bags that adorned my face, his mussed up curls said that he may have had a late start this morning too.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," he said, running his hands through his hair and staring at the floor.

I chuckled. "Y'know, you seem to apologize _a lot._"

"Do I? I'm sor – " I shot him an 'I told you so' look and he pursed his lips to stop himself. "I just feel like I really do owe you an apology this time. It was the worst possible way to drop that sort of bomb on you. And then they _made_ you kiss me and… that's not how it was supposed to go."

"Hey, Peeta, do you think we can –" I was cut off by the loud grumbling sound coming from my stomach.

"Finish eating?" He glanced at his watch. "Yeah, but we have to leave to the Arena Pictures Studios in a half hour. You'll need to eat a little more," he said, taking one last bite of his bread. "I need you fueled up."

I couldn't tell if he was purposely avoiding a specific conversation or just trying to get down to business, but it was irritating me to no end. I said nothing more and finished off what I had left on my plate.

* * *

It seemed like such a waste of time to drive all the way to Seneca Crane's office building for group photos only to get shuttled back to the country club to begin the race. Peeta explained that it wasn't typical for contestants to live at the starting line, so this was Crane's way of getting everyone to the starting line on time. All twenty-four participants were herded into the courtyard at the center of the building. A photographer was waiting for us, setting up silver reflectors and testing the lighting. She lined us up in two rows and instructed us to put our arms around our neighbors' shoulders. From my left, Peeta's arms easily came around and pulled me in. I nervously wrapped my arm around his waist then looked to the neighbor on my right. _Clove._ We exchanged mutual glares before coldly placing our hands on the other's shoulders. When the photographer finally finished her last shot, Clove turned to me.

"Watch your back, skank," she menaced. "Actually, watch mine, 'cause I'll be leaving you in the dust. Ta-ta!" She waved her fingers mockingly.

"Hey," Peeta pulled me in and wrapped his other arm to embrace me. "Ignore her. Just shut her up by swimming laps around her, alright?" He pressed his lips to the top of my head and I nodded. "C'mon. Let's go inside."

The lobby was a flurry of pumped up athletes waiting for the limo bus to take us all back to the country club where the swimming event would begin the race. Many were standing around socializing, but after the Truth or Dare debacle, I was keeping a safe distance from everyone else.

"Are you ready?" Peeta asked, grabbing two bottles of Gatorade from a table and handing one to me.

"As I'll ever be," I replied, trying to mask my anxiety.

He patted my shoulder and bolstered me, "You'll do great. And I'll be waiting for you on dry land for the cycling portion."

He _patted_ me. How distant and impersonal. I just couldn't seem to be able to read him. One second he's giving me a comforting peck on the head, the next he's patting my shoulder. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was playing the part of supportive _brother._

"Thanks."

"Hey, Lover Boy, Mr. Crane told me to tell you there are some release forms he needs you two to sign. Can't participate without it," Cato's deep voice informed us from behind. "He wants you to go up to his office. He has the papers there. Fifth floor, to the right."

Peeta and I were taken by surprise because neither of us was aware of such a form. We were given a packet to fill out when we'd signed up and we even checked each other's packets to make sure all the t's were crossed and all he i's dotted.

"Was there some new form that they required? 'Cause we filled out the entire packet, front and back," Peeta asked, just as perplexed as I was.

Cato shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just the messenger. Better go up there now before the limo gets here."

Peeta and I scurried towards the elevator, wanting to resolve whatever issue might prevent us from completing the race. Peeta's hand rested on the small of my back, as he led me down the hallway, sending electricity up my spine. When the elevator doors shut in front of us, his hand dropped and he tucked his hands behind his back, far from my grasp. I pressed the button for '5', and watched the numbered lights at the top of the elevator count upwards. It was just a few seconds before the 'ding' preceding the doors sliding open again.

"Marvel? What are you doing here?"

Marvel stood in the vestibule waiting for elevator to arrive.

"I could ask you the same thing," he retorted smugly. "Shouldn't you be downstairs with the other competitors?"

"We need to see Mr. Crane about some forms we have to sign," I informed him, growing impatient. "Where can we find is office?"

Marvel pointed down the hallway to the right that was lined with uniform doors and framed posters of Seneca Crane's movies. "Third door on the left."

We headed in the direction Marvel instructed, counting the solid white doorways. Peeta pressed the handle to the third door, gently escorting me ahead of him.

"Peeta, this isn't –"

Before I knew it, Peeta was ambushed by a heavy blow to the face. As he stumbled, I caught a flash of Cato's face behind the door, but before I could register any reaction, I was shoved onto the floor of the dark room beyond the door, Peeta, lying beside me, clutching his throbbing jaw. The door was slammed shut before I could get to my feet and I could hear the muffled cackles of Cato, Clove, and Marvel in the hallway on the other side. I jiggled the handle frantically, but it had been locked or sabotaged from the outside.

The room was pitch black except for the sliver of light peeking under the doorway. I heard Peeta grunting as he tried to stand up while I felt along the sides of the door frame for a light switch. My fingers slid over the rough surface of the cement brick walls before finally running into the smooth plastic protrusion. I immediately flipped it upwards, igniting a flickering bulb on the ceiling.

I scanned the room around me. It was only about six feet wide and maybe ten feet deep and smelled musty. It was lined with shelves full of tools and cleaning products and a sink in the corner that dripped at rhythmic intervals.

"What is this?" Peeta said as he stood wearily beside me. "A janitor's closet or something?"

"No, it's Seneca Crane's office," I snapped. I immediately regretted the sarcastic comment when a streak of hurt crossed his face. "Sorry. I'm just pissed."

Peeta tried rattling the handle again, then moved on to ramming into it with his shoulder. The method proved to be in vain, and Peeta ended up rubbing his sore chin and shoulder.

"Damn it!" he yelled in frustration, striking the door one more time for good measure. "They set us up!" Peeta looked at his watch. "The race is starting in less than an hour."

"Do you have a cell phone on you?"

Peeta patted down his pockets before regretfully admitting he left it in the car. I, of course, didn't have or need such a thing – until now, that is.

I threw myself on the door, flailing my arms and banging on the cold surface. "Help! Help! Somebody? Is anyone out there? Help!" I continued this until my arms and voice were tired and my hands were bright red.

"Katniss, it's no use. No one is here on a Saturday." Peeta slumped himself down on the floor, wincing in pain.

"Then what are we going to do? Just sit here until Monday morning?" I demanded irately. "Nobody else knows we came up here except for those clowns that locked us in! You think they're going to tell anyone and risk getting themselves disqualified?"

"Someone will come looking for us. They know we came for the group photos and my car is still here. Our friends and family will come when they don't see us in the race," he said trying to soothe me, but his words had the opposite effect.

"Peeta, we're going to miss the race!" My voice started to catch in my throat.

"Katniss, come here." He patted the space on the floor beside him.

I crossed my arms and scowled. "I thought you were avoiding me."

"What? Why would you think I was avoiding you?" he asked with ironic evasiveness. "I'm right here."

"Well, you're avoiding what happened yesterday," I clarified, standing my ground even though my mind was screaming for me to go to him. "You're trying to pretend nothing happened."

"I most certainly am not pretending nothing happened." Peeta reached his hand to his chin, rubbing the area that was starting to swell and turn blue.

I surveyed the closet and caught sight of a stack of clean rags on a shelf.

"Here. Let me." I grabbed one rag and ran it under cold water, then wrung out the excess. I knelt down next to Peeta and gently compressed it against the contusion. He looked at me with relief, bringing his hand up on top of mine and pressing it tighter against his jaw.

"That guy's got a mean right hook,"Peeta jested. I didn't laugh with him. When he finally read my silence, he knew what I was thinking about. "I meant what I said last night as a compliment, you know."

"Was it true?" I asked.

He cupped my face in his hand, mirroring my hand's position on him. "Of course it's the truth. That's the name of the game, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it _is_ a game," I pointed out.

"Point taken." He dropped eye contact with me and I realized how my statement must have come across to him.

"Peeta, I didn't mean…" I fumbled around for the right explanation. "I wasn't playing games with you. Well, I _was._ I only did it 'cause they dared me to…" Peeta's face fell at my failed attempt at consolation. "But that doesn't mean I didn't… like it."

His face lit up and, as if on cue, the dim light bulb flickered a little brighter. "You did, did you?"

"Shut up." I put the compress down and turned to look at him earnestly. "Did you _really_ like me since the first time you heard me sing?"

"Judy Garland had nothing on Katniss Everdeen. The moment you started singing, I was a goner," he told me, reminiscing about our school play.

"But that was, like ten years ago," I said in disbelief.

"And I watched you every day since."

I gave him a sideways glance. "Creeper." We looked at each other and laughed. "Is that why you gave me the necklace? Because you liked me?"

"I guess that was part of it," he answers with a shrug. "I want to say I only did it because it was the noble thing to do, but I wasn't exactly giving anything to Gale Hawthorne, was I?" He looked back at me, locking eyes. "But it wasn't pity."

"No, I believe you." I leaned back against him and rested my head on his shoulder. "So why didn't you say anything all summer?"

He let out a drawn out breath. "Well, it was the first time in my life that I was actually being acknowledged by _'the'_ Katniss Everdeen. I didn't really want to screw that up."

I turned my head to look at him, bumping his sore chin with the top of my head. Peeta hissed from the tenderness.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" I said.

I leaned over to place a soft, comforting kiss on his wound. Our faces turned to one another and I dragged my kiss from his jaw to his lips.

The kiss was slow and methodical at first. We soon found our rhythm, alternately nipping at top and bottom lips. His tongue flicked out and I instantly parted my lips to grant him entrance. We both tilted our heads to deepen the kiss, hardly pausing to take a breath.

It was different from kissing Gale. Granted, Gale sort of ambushed me with that kiss and I was so blindsided that I failed to return it. I think I may have puckered my lips a little bit out of some unknown reflex, but I don't remember any reciprocation on my part. I only remember feeling shock and confusion – and okay, maybe a small spark of excitement - before it was over.

But this was an entirely different sensation. Kissing Peeta lit a wildfire in my belly. My mind lost all ability to function and other areas of my body started to take over. I couldn't even say if it was because Peeta was an exceptionally great kisser since I didn't have enough experience to make any comparisons. All I knew was this hunger he elicited. It felt like those "hollow days" – as we called it - back when my family was struggling to put food on the table. There were days where, no matter what you put in your belly, it never felt like enough. Kissing Peeta felt that way. No matter how much, how long, or how deep the kisses were, my body was just craving for more.

We pawed at each other, desperately. My brain was completely useless as my head was just filled with a faint buzzing sound. It was futile to try and negotiate with myself. His hands were all over me and it felt so damn good. He stroked his hand up and down my ribs, brushing the sides of my breasts from outside my tank top. I suspected he was trying not to take things too far without my permission – how he could manage the restraint was beyond me - so I decided he needed me to make the first big move. Since I had evidently developed this bad habit of abusing his shirts, I figured I was only doing him a favor by removing the obstacle. I grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slid it upwards. He had to remove his own grip from my body to allow me to pull his shirt off completely, and I immediately glided my fingers to trace the contours of his chest. Just as suspected, when he reached for me once more, his hands extended under my clothing and found their home on my bare back, their radiating heat biting at my skin.

His kisses migrated from my lips and down my neck, drawing out involuntary sighs of approval on my part. Eventually, he got the courage to navigate further, leaning me back and trailing his kisses onto my collarbone, sliding down my straps to better access my bare shoulders, and ravenously moving across my chest. We reclined ourselves to the floor, Peeta hovering himself over me. The cold concrete felt downright icy against the heat of my flesh.

I looked up and caught sight of a faint light peeking through a vent cover on the ceiling above us.

"What's that?" I said breathlessly.

"What's what?" Peeta responded, continuing to cover my neck with kisses.

My eyes rolled back and my mind went foggy from his touch. I rolled him over onto his back to take back control and allowed the weight of my body to press against his. I returned my mouth eagerly back to his, our hips grinding almost instinctively.

"What did you say?" I asked into his mouth.

"Huh?" he managed between kisses. "I didn't… say… anything."

I heard the voice again. A male voice. And it most definitely wasn't coming from Peeta. I pushed my body off him abruptly. He looked at me, dumbfounded. "Uh, what just happened?"

"Wait. Sssh!" I commanded, holding a finger over his lips.

His eyes darted around the room as he lied on the floor shirtless and bewildered. Then we both heard the voice again, coming from the vent on the ceiling. We listened for a moment, trying to make it out. It wasn't Cato's or Marvel's voice, but it wasn't one I recognized.

"Someone's here!" Peeta exclaimed, jumping to his feet and collecting his discarded shirt from the floor. We continued to listen in, when Peeta finally recognized the voice. "That's Seneca Crane! He's here! Somewhere…"

"HELP!" we both shouted. "Somebody help!"

We couldn't quite make out what his voice was saying or how far away it was, but we figured Seneca couldn't have been too far if we could pick it up through the ventilation system.

"Hello? Is somebody there?" I called out again.

His voice began fading further away then we heard the slamming of a door.

"No, no, no, no… where'd he go?" Peeta said when the voice ceased.

"HELLLLLLLLLLLLP!" we tried one more time in hopes to catch Seneca passing in the hallway.

There was no reply or recognition for a good couple of minutes as our last hope began to wane. I studied the vent on the ceiling, wondering what was beyond that. Obviously, the ducts ran through an adjoining room if sound was coming through it. It could be Seneca's office. It could be any room, really, but the only important factor was that the room needed a door to get out.

"Peeta?" I said, continuing to gauge the vent cover. "You think that's big enough to fit a person?"

He followed my gaze and gave me a warning look. "Oh, no… Katniss, I know what you're thinking."

"One of us can crawl through to get to another room," I explained the obvious.

"This isn't the movies. No one actually does that," he argued. "Besides, I don't think my shoulders could even fit through that vent."

"But_ I_ could." I looked back at the outlet. "It might be a tight fit, but I can do it. What other choice do we have?"

"I'm not going to let you do it, Katniss. It's too dangerous!" His voice was getting stern. "Even if you fit through the vent, you don't know if that duct is large enough or if it will hold your weight."

"Geez, thanks," I replied.

"Don't get all girly on me just because I implied you weigh more than _air_," he replied irately.

It was very rare for Peeta to speak harshly, so I knew he was dead serious. But so was I.

"You can either give me a boost or watch me climb the shelves, but either way, I'm going to try to crawl through there." I crossed my arms in front of me to show him I wasn't going to be moved.

Peeta growled. "You know, you can be a pigheaded pain in the butt sometimes."

Despite his protestations, Peeta positioned himself below the vent and squatted down to let me climb onto him. I kicked off my shoes and stepped onto his thigh, boosting myself up to shoulders. Once I was balanced, I reached my hands up to wiggle the vent out of its place. After much coaxing, I finally got it free and tossed it onto the floor below.

"Okay, I'm going to climb in now," I informed Peeta. "Here goes nothing."

Peeta stiffened his stance to stabilize himself as I used his shoulders for leverage. Our combined height was enough to get my elbows through the opening, but I needed to use my arm strength to pull myself up onto the metal ledge. Peeta removed his grip on my calves to clutch the bottoms of my feet and push me upwards. Once I was completely inside, I realized there wasn't enough clearance for me to crawl on all fours, so I had to utilize my elbows in a sort of army crawl to propel myself through the duct.

"Are you alright up there?" I could hear Peeta shouting below me.

"Yeah," I replied. "I think I spot another vent a few yards away!"

"Please be careful," Peeta begged nervously.

I maneuvered myself through the length of the cold metal surface until I finally reached the next vent. Peering through the slats, I made out a large wooden desk and a file cabinet just below. If I could somehow lower myself feet first, I could step down onto the top of the file cabinet. I used my hands to push the vent cover out of place, dropping it down, and making a loud clang as it hit the floor.

"Katniss?" Peeta voice carried over the duct. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"I just opened the other vent! I'm going to climb down into the room! I think it's his office!" I hollered back.

I carefully shimmied myself past the opening until my feet hovered over it. Then I slowly slid myself backwards, lowering my legs down first. I had gotten most of my body down through the opening when I paused to spot the distance to the file cabinet. My feet dangle about a foot away from the surface, but I knew I'd have to drop myself the rest of the way. After I'd relayed this bit of information to a worried Peeta, I took a deep breath and swiftly tucked my elbows in to release myself.

I dropped the short distance to the cabinet, but when my feet hit it, it started to teeter under the impact. As I staggered to gain my balance, the file cabinet keeled over, knocking me down and sending me sliding down its surface as it fell with a thunderous crash.

"KATNISS!" Peeta's voice shouted desperately from the next room.

I took a moment to regain my bearings and massage my throbbing tailbone.

"I'm alright!" I called back to reassure him. "I just knocked something over, but I'm in!"

I scrambled to my feet, assessing the mess I had made. The file cabinet lied on its side with papers strewn about the floor. I knew I couldn't lift the cabinet up on my own and that Peeta was nervously waiting for me, so I left the mess to go free Peeta first.

I ran out through a pair of double doors that led to the same hallway we walk through earlier and found the door to the closet. Upon examination, I discovered that Cato and others had tightly wedged some odd metal object under the lever of the door handle. It was inconspicuous to a casual passerby, but it did the trick. I managed to pry it out and opened the door to an anxiously awaiting Peeta. He darted out of the closet, locking me in a tight embrace.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, stepping back to examine me for injury.

"I'm fine," I answered and began leading him back to Crane's office. "I just need you to help me clean up something. I knocked over the file cabinet on the way down."

"I'm still mad at you for doing this," he pouted. "But this 'Mission: Impossible' Katniss is pretty freakin' sexy." I rolled my eyed but planted a fiery kiss on his lips. "Mmm… yes, definitely sexy."

When we got back to the office, he inspected the state of disorder I had left in my wake. I quickly got down on my knees to pick up the loose files that were scattered about.

"Are you going to just stand there and watch or are you going to help me?"

Peeta scratched his head. "How did all these papers come loose if all the cabinet doors are still locked shut?" I stopped to study the drawers, and sure enough, they hadn't opened during the collapse. "What's that?"

Peeta pointed to a file folder that was duct taped to the side of the cabinet that was once hidden by the large desk beside it.

"I don't know Peeta, but we need to hurry up," I said looking at the clock on the wall. "We might be able to just make it back for the race."

Peeta knelt down beside me, shuffling papers and photos back into some semblance of order when, suddenly, he stopped to examine the items in his hands closely.

"Oh my gosh, Katniss… Do you know what these files are?"

* * *

_**A/N #2 – **__What's Hunger Games without a cave scene, right? Hope Katniss wasn't too OOC. Hormones help take her out of her head a little. _

_Hope you liked the chapter enough to leave me a little note! __REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!_


	14. Chapter 14: Pulling a Fast One

_**A/N: **__I wonder how many people read author's notes. I love reading them. It's part of what I like more about reading fanfiction over published books. I love hearing the author's thoughts on their work, their reviews, their breakfast. (I had some bomb homemade Oreos for breakfast, by the way! I know, terrible. Even worse, I made them to bring to my best friend who just gave birth this morning and I totally ate them! Lol) And when you have an unhealthy obsession with something, it's kind of nice to know there are other crazies out there too!_

_Anyhoo… here's the next installment. Sorry no gratuitous heavy makeout sessions here, but stories need to be told. My apologies for any mistakes. I'm not working with a beta and my eyes were getting all crossed trying to proof read myself!_

_Thank you to all of you who took the time to leave me a little comment and those that added this to your faves. Ya'll keep me motivated. :) Keep 'em coming! __Congrats to __**DollyJani**__ for putting some puzzle pieces together and for the chapter title inspiration!_

_Another note to any readers in the East (U.S) Coast - I'm sure you have more important things to worry about right now than reading fanfiction, but my thoughts and prayers are will you all as Sandy passes through! Stay safe!_

* * *

_**Chapter 14: **__**Pulling a Fast One**_

"Oh my gosh, Katniss… Do you know what these files are?" Peeta gasped, frozen in shock at whatever files he was holding.

"What?" I looked at the one I was holding in my own hand. "Looks like some bank statements or something. From the Caymans? I don't understand, Peeta."

"Here, look at these." Peeta handed me a few items from his stack.

"Photographs of Eliza O'Keefe?" I asked, flipping through them. "Whoa, getting busy, apparently. These look like paparazzi shots… wait, is that who I _think_ it is?"

"Uncle Haymitch," Peeta confirmed.

"I didn't know Haymitch dated Eliza." I handed Peeta back the photos.

He flipped through them once more. "I didn't either."

"Why would Seneca be keeping these pictures of them?" I wondered.

"I don't think these are paparazzi photos. This wasn't something that the media was aware of."

"Maybe Seneca paid them off to keep these out of the press," I suggested. "That's why they're hidden."

"Or he paid someone off to _take_ these pictures. I think these were taken by a private investigator of some sort," Peeta conjectured, putting the pictures aside and skimming through the other papers.

"So you think they were having an _affair_?" I asked incredulously.

"I don't know what all of this means, but I'm taking it with us," Peeta said, hastily stuffing the documents back into the manila folder he had torn off the cabinet. "C'mon, we need to get going now if we're to have any chance of making it to the starting line in time."

"Peeta, wait!" He began lifting the file cabinet back into place on his own, the folder tucked under his arm. "We can't take that. What if he finds out they're missing?"

He grabbed my hand and started dragging me out of the office. "I don't care, Katniss. This is about my uncle. I have a hunch about something and if I'm right, we're going to need these files to prove it. Now let's get out of here."

* * *

Peeta already had the key turning in the ignition before we were even completely inside his Jeep, tossing the folder into the glove compartment. I was still fumbling with my seatbelt when he sped out of the parking lot.

"I think we can barely make it for the gun, but you're going to have to make a run for the starting line as soon as we pull in," he informed me.

"Wait, Peeta, I still need to change into my wetsuit. How will I have time?"

He reached behind my seat, keeping his eyes trained on the road while he continued to steer expertly with one hand, and returned with my wetsuit in his grasp.

"Here. Get dressed," he instructed, tossing my suit into my lap.

"In the _car_?" I gawked at him. "Are you kidding? It's not like you have tinted windows – or _any_ windows, for that matter! You want me to just expose myself to everyone on the 405?"

"You're wearing your swimsuit under your clothes. It'll be fine. Unless you plan to swim without the wetsuit. In which case, I don't think that bikini you're wearing will hold up," he said, biting back a sly smile.

I shot him a scowl. "How did you know I'm wearing my swimsuit under my clothing?"

"You already forgot how I knew that?" Peeta turned to me for a brief moment, just long enough to flash me a flirtatious wink. I blushed profusely remembering the feel of his hands underneath my shirt. "We'll be there in about ten minutes, so you better get dressed."

Reluctantly, I unbuckled my seat belt and undid the button of my shorts. Scanning the road around me, I slid my shorts down and kicked them onto the floor.

"Peeta, watch out!" I shouted, gripping the roll bar to steady myself, as he began drifting into the next lane. The driver of the coupe we nearly sideswiped leaned on his horn, flashing Peeta his middle finger. "Keep your eyes on the road, would you?"

"Sorry!" Peeta shouted after I'd caught him eying my state of undress.

I slipped my feet into the legs of my wetsuit, lifting my butt off the seat and arching my back to shimmy my suit the rest of the way up. Peeta swerved once again into the shoulder lane.

"Peeta!" I scolded him as I buckled my seat belt back on. "Are you trying to get us to the club or get us killed?"

"I'm sorry, you just…" He cleared his throat nervously. "Nevermind."

If we weren't dangerously weaving through traffic at 70 miles per hour, I might have been flattered by the attention, but this was definitely not the time to get distracted by raging hormones.

"Well, get it together 'cause I'm about to take off my shirt," I warned him.

His body stiffened and his eyes locked forward. "Eyes on the road, Peeta," he commanded himself.

When I was certain he was completely engrossed in his driving, I pulled my tank top over my head and quickly slipped my arms into the sleeves of my wetsuit in one fluid motion.

Once I had the zipper pulled all the way up, I announced, "Done! You can relax now."

"Perfect. Here's the exit. Get ready to bust outta here and make a run for it."

Within a couple minutes, Peeta was screeching into the country club's employee parking lot while I kept my hand positioned on the seatbelt latch, ready to release myself. As soon as he was pulled into a parking spot, I hopped over the door and I hit the ground running towards the beach.

"Swim straight!" I heard Peeta call after me.

I sprinted past the main lobby and through tennis courts, jumping a fence to make a shortcut to the beach entrance. I had just reached the sand at the bottom of the steps when I heard the sound of a voice calling out through a bullhorn, "Competitors – on your marks, get set…"

I pushed myself past the crowd of spectators roped off several yards behind the starting line, just as the starting gun went off. I took off down the beach, trailing behind the other swimmers. The other eleven contestants had already transitioned from their dolphin dives to their freestyle strokes by the time my feet even hit the water. Even though I was confident in my swimming abilities, I didn't know how fast my opponents were. More concentrated and determined than I'd ever been, I had set my sights on chasing down Clove. I didn't even care if I didn't finish in first as long as she enjoyed the view from behind me.

Ducking my head down, I stroked as fast as my arms could possibly move. I knew I'd tire myself out at this pace, but I was resolute in proving to Cato and Clove that Peeta and I would not back down. About halfway to the buoy, I had gained on several of the laggards, but I was still behind five or six leaders, and beginning to feel the fatigue of my initial sprint. I was telling my muscles to keep working, keep moving. I stopped keeping track of my opponents at that point and concentrated solely on motivating my body not to quit.

After the turn, I checked my surroundings once more and gauged that I was approximately in fourth place. If I could just keep us close, I was sure that Peeta could make up the rest on the run. I just had to keep up… for Peeta. For _Peeta._ I pictured him in my mind, shouting my name before he slipped under the water, being carried away by the rip tide. I had to get to him. I had to save him. Every ounce of strength, energy, and willpower was funneled into that moment, to close the gap between us.

Before I knew it, I was swimming so hard, adrenaline pumping through my veins, picturing Peeta's lifeless body as I headed back to shore. I must have passed up one other swimmer because, when I finally made it back to dry land, only two others were ahead of me – Clove and Enobaria. Clove looked back and tried to hide her alarm at seeing me there, let alone so close behind her.

I would have made another sprint to pass her up on the run to the cycling rendezvous, but I didn't want to overexert myself before that event. I figured, if I can pass up nine opponents in one event, Peeta and I could certainly pull ahead over the course of the last two. I found Peeta already straddling his bike while he waited for me to join him. I mounted my bike as he congratulated me with a quick kiss.

"Let's go," I mouthed silently to him, unable to conjure up my voice through my labored breathing, before we took off down the route, trailing Brutus and Enobaria and Cato and Clove leading the pack.

"Hang in there a little longer, Katniss," Peeta cheered me on as I pedaled just behind him. "You're doing great, Baby!"

I looked up at him from my targeted view of Cato and Clove. "You didn't seriously just call me 'Baby', did you?" Peeta laughed, standing to pick up speed. "Yeah, you _better_ run!"

I caught my second wind of energy as I was motivated to catch up with my partner. When Foxy snuck up in my periphery, I hunkered down and pumped my legs even faster. Finally able to break from the next wave of cyclists gaining on me, I soon caught up with Peeta.

"Don't call me 'Baby'!" I yelled at him teasingly.

"Alright, we can discuss possible pet names later," he replied as we passed Brutus.

Peeta and I began this dance with our opponent. He'd pull a few inches ahead then Peeta would. I'd pull forward then Brutus would pass me. As I dropped back, I pumped harder, swerving to his other side so Peeta and I were flanking him. We shot each other a conspiring look, understanding one another without words. At his nod, we both pedaled ahead of Brutus. As soon as we had both passed him, we steered to close our gap, blocking Brutus from regaining his lead. Brutus shouted a few expletives at us as we shared a laugh at his expense. We were even audacious enough to high-five each other in front of him.

"Girl, you are on fire!" Peeta hollered. "Woo!"

I shook my head at his silliness. "Well, I'll take 'Girl on fire' over 'Baby' any day," I said. "But in the meantime, we have a few more opponents to burn through."

"Right," Peeta replied, stiffening his demeanor. He pointed to his eyes with two fingers and then out to the road before us. "Focus."

My resulting giggle nearly caused me to lose my balance on my bike, swerving out to the side to regain my balance. "Oh, crap!"

"Who can't drive now?" Peeta mocked. "And _I'm_ fully clothed!"

"Oh, hush!" I reprimanded. "Whatever happened to staying focused? We only have a short distance to go." I pointed to the 4K marker we just passed.

By the time Peeta and I had reached the end of the cycling course, Cato and Clove were still in the lead and we came shortly afterwards, just behind Enobaria, but her partner, Brutus - who was the one that was going to be finishing the running portion of the race – was still a few seconds behind us.

"I'll see you at the finish line! Git 'er done!" I pumped and instinctively smacked Peeta's bottom without thinking as he passed me by. "Uhh…"

"Yes, I'll definitely see you at the finish line," he replied suggestively.

I rolled my eyes. "Just go!"

We had lost a little time on our exchange and Brutus made it to the start of the route the same time as Peeta. As they took off in pursuit of Cato, Clove sidled up next to me.

"How'd I look from back there? I've been doing squats just so you'd have something nice to look at," she sneered.

Without even looking in her direction, I shrugged. "Oh, I couldn't tell. It was too small to see clearly." I began walking away, but turned back around to face her. "And Clove? Next time you're feeling too insecure to play fairly, make sure you pick on someone who will keep their mouth shut about it."

I watched with satisfaction as her face blanched. Truth be told, we hadn't decided on ratting them out just yet. It would be our word against theirs and Marvel would probably step up to vouch for them. On top of that, we would have to explain how we escaped and when the files come up missing, Seneca would undoubtedly suspect us. At that point, sabotaging a race seems like less of a punishable offense than breaking and entering and theft.

Clove stomped away from me steaming from the ears. I followed the rest of the swimmers through the shortcut that led us to the finish line to meet our partners for the final verdict. Cato had a sizable lead, but Peeta and Brutus had just as much of a chance to pull themselves into first place as well. We killed our time waiting by rehydrating ourselves and taking turns being interviewed by reporters. I tried to lay low to avoid being spotted by the media, but eventually, a male news reporter from KPTL approached me with his enormous microphone.

"Excuse me, do you have a minute? Can I get a quick interview?" he asked adjusting his stiff toupee and smiling with his unnaturally white teeth.

"Umm, I guess so," I answered quietly with a shrug.

"Fantastic! And what is your name, dear?"

"I'm, uh, Katniss. Katniss Everdeen," I replied sounding more like I was asking him my name rather than telling him.

"Alright, Katniss, just look over at that camera right there, and smile, would you?" He dabbed his tanned face with a handkerchief before speaking into his microphone. "Caesar Flickerman here reporting from the 3rd Annual Cornucopia Triathlon. I'm here with one of the competitors, Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, how are you feeling right now?"

"Well, I'm pretty tired," I answered vaguely.

"I'm sure you are! We all saw you running in late for the start. Can you tell us what happened and why you weren't able to start with the other contestants?" he probed, taking me by surprise.

"Oh, um, my partner and I got held up somewhere. We thought we might miss the race completely, but I barely made it back to catch up on the swim." My eyes darted away from the camera, watching the road beyond it for any sign of the runners.

"And catch up you did! Have you ever considered competing in the Olympics with those skills?" He threw his head back letting out an artificial laugh. I simply shook my head at what I assumed was a rhetorical question. "Katniss, after your late start, do you think your team has a chance at winning?"

I smiled genuinely, thinking of Peeta passing up Cato. "Absolutely. My partner, Peeta, is a very fast runner. I have no doubt he can pull ahead."

As if on cue, the nearby crowd bordering the running course began cheering loudly. We couldn't see any of the runners, but we could tell they were approaching by the sounds of the spectators. Caesar and his cameraman cut away from me – thank goodness – and turned their attention to the finish line. My neck strained to see over their shoulders.

"Excuse me," I begged as I pushed my way to the finish line. "Excuse me."

I stood there with my hands clasped, my heart pounding in my chest, hoping and praying that Peeta would be the first face I'd see.

And it was. Alongside the red, puffy faces of Cato and, surprisingly, Thresh. They were practically dead even and as they rounded the corner, with the archway of the finish line in sight, they all broke into an all-out sprint. I watched intently, my mind imagining them in slow motion to the tempo of some cliché epic music score. Cato's face was flushed and dripping with sweat. Peeta's hair clung to his forehead, his fiery eyes lit with determination. It was going to be a very close call – a photo finish, perhaps. But at the very final nanosecond, Peeta broke the ribbon.

I leapt into the air, screaming zealously before I ran to meet Peeta. I jumped into his arms and kissed his face and neck excitedly.

"Oh my gosh! Ah! You did it!" I shouted. "You did it!"

"_We_ did it, Baby!" Peeta gave me a flirtatious smile.

"Shut up. Don't call me 'Baby'!"

"Why don't you shut me up…" his eyebrows waggled suggestively. "Bab-"

My mouth crashed into his, kissing him deeply to effectively shut him up.

"Congratulations are in order, I see!" Caesar Flickerman was practically feeding me his microphone yet again. "Turns out, you were right about your partner, Miss Everdeen. He_ was_ capable of taking the lead!"

Peeta gently put me down and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "Are you kidding? I owe it all to Katniss. You should have seen her swimming out there. I think she may have passed a couple dolphins!" I playfully pushed him as my face blushed on camera. "That's what I love about this girl. She can overcome just about any obstacle you throw her way."

"Wow," Caesar said, as stunned by Peeta's words and I was. "You seem very fond of your teammate, Peeta! But I think you both deserve the credit. Congratulations to you both! Ladies and gentleman, the victors of the 3rd annual Cornucopia Triathlon, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta…"

"Mellark," Peeta finished for him.

A man dressed in uniform and wearing a very official headset, came to escort us back to the beach for the award ceremony. We followed him to the golf cart that awaited us, passing Cato and Clove on the way. Cato was seething with rage while Clove's face failed to hide the dread I had implanted with my threat to snitch. Peeta grabbed my hand to help me into the golf cart, waving to the cheering crowd while the uniformed man drove us away.

"Cato is not a happy camper," I told him. "The looks on their faces is worth far more than the prize money."

"He'll be even more pissed when they get disqualified," Peeta said smugly.

I rested my chin on his shoulder, nibbling on his earlobe to hide my whispering. "Peeta, I don't think we should tell the contest officials about what they did."

Peeta looked at me quizzically, but grabbed my face, placing a soft kiss on my cheek and whispering back, "Did you suddenly develop a soft spot for them or what?"

I returned the gesture, telling him, "They can't know we were there. Those files, Peeta. We could get in a lot of trouble."

He nodded with understanding and we shared one last kiss before disembarking the cart and making our way to the podiums they had set up in the middle of the sand.

The ceremony was, thankfully, short and succinct. Seneca Crane came up to hand us a comically large, fake check for $5,000, congratulating us on our job well done. He was followed by the winners from last year's triathlon, an Abercrombie model-type he referred to as Finnick brought a trophy that could easily pass as a floor lamp.

Finnick flashed a typical beefcake smile at me then winked as he said in a low, suggestive voice, "Incredible swimming out there. Love a girl who doesn't mind getting wet."

I could see Peeta puff out his chest and clench his fists from the corner of my eye. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it to assuage him.

Finnick's partner was far less appealing. Johanna, as they called her, had a scowl that rivaled my own, but her voice had a menacing edge to it. As she approached us to place the medals around our necks, I heard her remark with sarcastic overtones, "Great job, Peeta. Sure beats eighth place."

Peeta snickered and I wondered why he found her dry humor entertaining. She didn't say a single word to me. She simply threw me a condescending expression as if I was her heir apparent trying to take over her throne before she was dead.

Senece took to the microphone once more.

"Congratulations again, Katniss and Peeta. When I started up the Cornucopia Project three years ago, I was going through a tumultuous time in my personal life. I found refuge in my work – in my craft. Movies have always been my escape into an alternate world and, as a director, it was empowering to know that there were some things in life I could still control. There was a way I could express myself for the world to see. And I felt like everyone ought to have those types of opportunities. As you know, this foundation funds performing arts programs in our local schools. And thanks to all our extremely generous sponsors, this year we've raised a record-breaking… $273,500!"

The crowd broke into thunderous applause. Peeta and I smiled and clapped politely, but I could tell by the look on Peeta's face, that gears were turning in his head. Once we were dismissed from the podium, I grabbed his hand and turned him back towards me.

"Hey, something's up. What are you thinking about?" I asked, searching his eyes.

He glanced back at Seneca who was already schmoozing with the group of affluent sponsors. "We need to find my uncle… _now_."

* * *

_Tell me what you think! Leave me a review! I've only gotten one non-positive review. It wasn't negative, necessarily, but it was strange and didn't make sense. Whoever was the anonymous reviewer that left it, thank you, but I wish you had left some specific details so I could understand it better! Even though I know I can never please everyone with my storylines, I always strive to write it well and get __**my **__point across. I really do appreciate feedback even to tell me something didn't make sense so I can try harder to make sure it does. :)_


	15. Chapter 15: Facing the Music

_**A/N: **__I spoiled you guys there for a while with my frequent updates! Fell a little behind this week sewing costumes for my son, niece, and nephew – Thor, ladybug, and Hawkeye, respectively. I, of course, was Katniss! I was gonna dress as Effie, but my wig didn't come in time. Then my husband got me a new MacBook (I've always been a 'PC'), so it's been a frustrating transition. But back to writing. This chapter is supposed to be longer as far as content goes, but there was still so much to tell and I didn't want it to get too long. It was heading in that direction so I decided to cut it off where I thought it felt natural._

_I hit a little speedbump on this chapter though. Didn't really know what angle to take, so I just free wrote. Sometimes I hate it, and sometimes I make beautiful mistakes. It's a little of both, so I hope it's not terrible._

* * *

_**Chapter 15: Facing the Music**_

"What do you want, kid?" Haymitch grunted from his seat behind the desk, his eyes still locked on the paperwork he was signing. He darted his gaze up at us for just a second before returning to his papers. "Well, well, well… hello there, Sweetheart. Congrats to you both, by the way. Shouldn't you be out celebrating or something?"

Peeta tossed the entire file folder onto Haymitch's desk, obstructing his previous activity. Haymitch paused for a second to eye the folder then raised his eyebrows skeptically at his nephew.

"I think the contents might be of some interest to you," Peeta informed him. "It certainly was to us."

I shifted my eyes from the folder in question and Peeta's hard expression. I didn't know what any of this was about, but I was under the impression that Peeta took the folder to help Haymitch. Why did I detect an edge to his voice?

Haymitch reached to open the flap of the folder, sighing with exasperation. He perused its contents for a minute, deciphering the significance of Peeta's delivery. His expression, which started as bored and disinterested, was now a failed effort at masking his shock and embarrassment.

"Where did you get these, Peeta?" he demanded.

"Seneca Crane's office," Peeta answered matter-of-factly.

"He _gave _this to you?"

"No! Of course he didn't _give_ them to me. They were hidden in his office. Katniss and I took them," Peeta tried to explain causing both Haymitch and me to jump back and gape at him with incredulity – Haymitch, in shock that we had been in Seneca's office; me, stunned that Peeta would drag me into whatever scheme he had formulated.

"I didn't –" I began in defense of myself, but was cut short as they continued their apparent dispute.

"I don't even want to know how that happened, but look, kid, this is an adult issue. Don't involve yourself in it," Haymitch retorted.

Peeta scoffed at his uncle's condescension. "I'm not a _kid_! We're in this together," he spat in Haymitch's face. "Is this why the movie was killed? Because you were screwing around with Seneca Crane's _wife_? Hmm?"

Haymitch's face flinched as if the idea never occurred to him. His normally detached, nonchalant demeanor immediately changed to a defensive one. He stood from his chair, squaring his shoulders as he leaned across the desk to meet Peeta's glare.

"Don't get all 'holier than thou' on me, Peeta! I took you in when your parents didn't. You came here with your small town mentality. Don't presume to know what it's like to live in Hollywood – we live by a different set of standards here that you know nothing about."

I started to back away, stealthily heading in the direction of the door. I knew this had nothing to do with me and whatever family issues they were having, my ears should not have been privy to them, but Peeta grabbed my hand without even looking in my direction, preventing me from escaping.

"You know what? You're right, Uncle Haymitch. You do live by a whole different set of standards. Because where I come from, it's not okay to steal another man's wife. And it's also not okay to steal another man's money to exact revenge. But hey, if that's all within the confines of your 'Hollywood standards', then I guess you won't be needing these files to put Seneca Crane in jail."

Peeta turned on his heel, dragging me out the door along with him. He led me through the hall to the employee lounge where he sat us down and cradled his head in his hands. I honestly didn't know what to do. I didn't know how I should address him or how to console him. Did he need consoling? Did he need a minute to think? What was someone in my position supposed to say? I didn't know what exactly we _were_. I wasn't his girlfriend. I was barely his friend. But then there was the kissing. What did Peeta expect from me in this situation?

"Peeta?" I asked in a very small, cautious voice, twiddling my thumbs nervously. "I don't… what just happened there?"

He kept one hand on his forehead, messaging his temples. The other reached over to grab hold of a hand on my lap. He shook his head subtly. I interpreted that to mean he didn't want to talk about it right now, but was glad to have me there with him, so I simply sat with him in silence until he was ready to go.

"I'm sorry," he said when he'd finally had enough time to sort his thoughts. "I know I put you in an awkward position there. I just really needed to have you with me."

I didn't want to press the issue. I was really confused about what Peeta's intentions were with Haymitch, not to mention what all those files meant. The discovery that Haymitch had had an affair with Seneca's wife was obvious, but what did Peeta mean when he said that money was stolen? Did he suspect Seneca of taking Haymitch's investment when he found out about the affair? I didn't get a good look at what all was in that folder, but I had a feeling Peeta saw some things that raised his suspicions.

The one thing I was sure of was that it wasn't any of my business except for the small detail of my getting into Seneca's office and exposing the files. I began to wonder if there were any surveillance cameras in the office. While most people don't watch security videos regularly, he'd most certainly ask for the tapes once he discovered his missing file. If, in fact, there were cameras in that room, they'd encounter footage of me, dropping in from the ceiling, knocking over his cabinet, letting in my "accomplice", and leaving with private property. "Mission: Impossibile Katniss", indeed. But I wasn't prepared to face the consequences for what would undoubtedly be considered a crime.

"Well, we should probably get out of here. I don't think this is the best place to talk about it anyway." I stood to signal it was time to go.

Peeta followed, wrapping his arms around me, defeated. I felt his arm pivot on my back as he checked the time on his watch.

"Oh, we should probably start getting ready for the dance tonight," he announced, his face beginning to light up.

"But it's not until eight o'clock," I reminded him, skeptically eying his boyish grin.

"Yes, but I have a _really _hot date tonight, and I kinda want to impress her," he said wagging his eyebrows at me. "She's a tough nut to crack, so I gotta make sure our first date is really special."

I pulled back to flash him a puzzled expression. "_First_ date? We've already had our first date, Peeta."

"Did we now?" He playfully searched his memory. "I don't remember that. Although I _do_ remember testifying to someone's sister that it wasn't really a date."

I rolled my eyes at him as we exited the lounge. "Fine. But no cheesy corsage!"

* * *

Madge and Delly came over a couple hours before the dance, after I had called Delly with a fashion emergency. I didn't have anything nice enough to wear and the red dress from Cinna was far too formal for this event. Delly, being several inches shorter than me, called Madge to bring a few of her dresses over to loan. I had expected Madge to bring one or two dresses from her closet, but when I opened the door, she was covered in an armful of options.

Thankfully, Madge was more conservative in her style of dress, so she didn't have the typical micro-mini, midriff-baring, neckline-plunging styles I had gotten accustomed to seeing on other girls our age. Despite Delly's campaign to put me in fitted, backless purple number, Madge and I won the majority vote on a flowing yellow sundress with enough femininity in the off-the-shoulder neckline, but enough give to move around and dance – at least that was Madge's argument. I had no intention of actually moving my body in time to any music.

Delly did my make up while Madge curled my hair. I begged to keep it in my signature braid, but they both insisted I try something different.

"So… are you and Peeta, like, a real couple? Like _officially_?" Delly prodded.

"What?" I asked evading the question, or at least stalling for time since I knew that, with Delly, avoidance was futile.

"Look up," Delly commanded as she brushed mascara onto my lashes. "You heard me. Are you and Peeta a 'thing' now? I mean, I know you guys kissed 'cause of a dare – thank you very much, Clove – but you guys seem to be pretty tight now. And you're going to this dance together…"

"Ow!" I yelled when Madge got too close to my skin with the curling iron. She mouthed the word 'sorry' in the mirror's reflection. I returned my attention to Delly. "We were partners for the race and this dance is for paritipants, remember? Didn't you go with Peeta last year?" I was still dodging as long as I could.

"Good point. But if you're implying that Peeta and _I_ had a thing, then that would be a big, fat 'heck no.' He's like the brother I never had."

"Delly, you have a brother," Madge paused to remind her.

"Also a good point. But that brother is a royal pain in the butt. Peeta is the sweet, naïve, and gullible brother. _That's_ the kind I've never had. But whatever. Like I was saying, yes, I partnered with Peeta in the race last year, but _we_ didn't celebrate with any kissing."

"You didn't celebrate at all. You came in eighth," Madge retorted. She wasn't normally one to engage in witty banter, so I could tell she was trying to help me change the subject.

Delly stuck her tongue out at Madge. "Quit distracting me. I wanna know what's up with Katniss and Peeta." Yup. It was futile. "Here. Blot your lips." She handed me a facial tissue. "You have a few minutes before Peeta gets here, so spill – are you and Peeta an official couple now?"

I considered my response for a moment. There really wasn't a clear answer to that. Peeta and I hadn't made anything "official" yet, but there was, admittedly, a significant amount of kissing, hugging, and hand-holding taking place that was obviously indicative of _something_. I just didn't want to give that something a name in a conversation with Delly before I had a chance to have that conversation with Peeta.

"No, we're not an official _couple_," I answered honestly. "We're friends, Delly."

"With benefits?" she asked, still probing for a more satisfying answer.

"What do you mean by 'benefits'?"

There was a knock on the door and my heart leaped from my chest from alarm and anticipation. I rose from my chair to answer, Delly and Madge following closely behind. Peeta was dressed in a grey button up shirt and sleek, black tie. He held his cardigan over his shoulder since the summer air was still warm. Even though I liked his usual tousled curls, his slick styled look made me blush.

"Wow," we both sighed in unison.

"You look…" he let out a long breath. "Wow." He reached up to brush a curl off my shoulder.

I noticed his expression change. His eyes had bulged out and his cheeks flushed.

"What?" I asked beginning to feel self-conscious.

His hand came back up and he rubbed his thumb on my neck. "Did _I_ do that? Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize I was being that… _aggressive._" His last word he tried to say in hushed tones.

My hand shot up to my neck. "What are you talking about, Peeta? Do what?"

I turned to the entryway mirror hanging over the credenza to see what had Peeta so concerned. On the side of my neck was a distinct red mark.

"What is that?" I asked out loud, rubbing at the blotch.

Delly pulled up beside me and placed her hands on my shoulder before saying to our reflection, "_That_ is a 'benefit', my friend."

"No, it's not!" Madge interrupted with a chuckle. "That's just from the curling iron! Sorry about that."

Peeta and I both released audible sighs of relief, but judging by the satisfied look on Delly's face, it was too late. She had already formed her conclusions about us. It didn't matter that the mark on my neck was not actually a hickey. All she needed to witness was Peeta's guilty reaction to know that we were most definitely more than just friends.

"Alright, well, you two lovebirds get on out of here!" she said proudly, helping Madge carry the unused dresses out the door. "And you better not come home with more curling iron burns on your neck, young lady!"

The two girls closed the door behind them, leaving Peeta and me alone. He hesitated a moment, canvasing the room.

"Where are your mom and Prim?" he asked casually.

"My mom's got the graveyard shift again tonight. She sent Prim to sleepover at Rue's since I'd be out late," I explained.

Peeta took that as his cue to move in on me, tossing his cardigan aside so he could wrap his hands around my waist. "Hmm…" he hummed provocatively. "We might not be back so late after all."

I smacked away his hands and sidestepped his embrace. For some reason, under everyone else's scrutiny, I wasn't as uninhibited as I was in the privacy of the janitor's closet or in the excitement of the race. The surprise and hint of hurt on Peeta's face told me that my evasiveness was not lost on him.

"We should get going," I said, lending credence to his suspicions. "I can already hear music playing from the beach."

He picked up his cardigan from where it had landed on the back of the sofa. "Actually, I think they're just doing sound checks right now. The dance doesn't start for another hour."

"Oh." I rocked on my heels awaiting some sort of explanation as to why he insisted on meeting me an hour early.

"I actually had something planned before we go to the dance," he said somewhat bashfully. "You hungry?"

I followed Peeta to a secluded area of the club's private beach, tucked away from the area normally protected by lifeguards. It was just a short strip of sand bordered by large, jagged rocks that dropped off into the water. I was surprised I didn't know about it considering it was my job to keep an eye on the beach. It didn't seem like many guests had discovered it either since it looked fairly undisturbed save for the blanket and picnic basket that was left in the middle of the sand with a single set of footprints going to and from it.

"Is that for us?" I asked.

"But of course." Peeta took one of my hands in his and led me to the blanket. "I know it's cheesy and cliché, but I guess I don't really know any other way."

I stifled a smile. "So you do this kind of thing often?"

"No!" he answered defensively. "I've never done this for anyone else, if that's what you mean."

Unable to suppress myself any further, my face lit up. "No worries. No one's ever done this for me before either, so it's not cliché to me… cheesy, yes, but not cliché."

Peeta gave me that look. That look that I had already learned to recognize as the prelude to a kiss, so I turned my head to watch the waves crash against the rocks. He cleared his throat to change his trajectory.

"Well, speaking of 'cheesy', I know you said not to give you a corsage, but I thought I should commemorate our first date with something floral… if you can even call it that." He opened one side of the picnic basket and pulled out a single stem with tiny, yellow petals.

"A dandelion!" My voice caught on the end of the word as I was nearly brought to tears by his gesture. I clutched the stem to my chest.

"You know, I couldn't find a single floral shop in the city that sold dandelions," he said facetiously. "They grow like an epidemic back home, but it's surprisingly difficult to find them here. I had to sneak into someone's overgrown backyard to find one. Blew on a few of those fuzzy ones so you can have more dandelions someday."

I couldn't hold back anymore at that moment. I leaned forward, capturing his lips with mine.

When I finally broke the kiss, he asked breathlessly, "Wow, all this over a weed?"

"A _promise,_" I reminded him. "Thank you for remembering, Peeta. Even though I won't be here to watch the dandelions sprout, I'm glad you'll have them to remember me by."

And suddenly, a dense cloud of reality shrouded us. It was always common knowledge between us that I was only here for the summer. It was never a secret. If we bothered with the calculations, we'd know that I had just over two weeks left here in California before heading back to Michigan. I never planned on falling for anyone, not even Peeta. I never planned on getting involved with him – or whatever this was called.

If I had bothered to rationally make those plans, I wouldn't be sitting here with Peeta at all. Relationships, in my mind, were frivolous and debilitating. People lost their identities in relationships. And when one person leaves – which is eventual and inevitable – the other is left to grieve and wallow. Yes, relationships were ugly. If I ever wanted one, it made the most sense to be with Gale. He knew and understood me best. He was there through the deepest valleys of my life. If I hadn't managed to scare him off yet, he probably wouldn't ever leave me. Of that, I was almost certain. But my heart was never open to share with someone else. Not even Gale.

But when Peeta came along, I wasn't thinking. I was _feeling._ And, damn, it felt good. I let go for just a brief moment and I completely lost my grip on my plans. My heart bloomed on its own accord. I wanted to squelch it. I wanted to ignore it. But I was no longer in control. Something began to stir inside of me and I felt too far gone to extinguish it. And now, I was going to leave – just like somebody always does. This time, who would grieve – Peeta or me?

"Right," he said, hanging his head under the weight of our hopeless situation. "But we've got tonight, don't we?" A smile played on his lips, not quite reaching his eyes, so I nodded consolingly. "Well, we're all dressed up and the music's playing, so tonight… we dance."

* * *

_**Leave me a review! I always appreciate the feedback! Thanks!**_

_**A/N #2– **__Well, that was quite a range of emotions. Next chapter, we'll get to the dance. I don't know how many chapters are left. Just a few more since, I've just revealed that most of the summer has already passed and the Everdeens' stay is coming to an end. There's a possibility of a sequel, but I don't have any solid plans yet. Currently planning on a one-shot series. It's more of an alternate ending than an alternate universe. Definitely not modern-day, obviously._


	16. Chapter 16: Firsts

_**Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! You guys fuel me! And for the price of fuel these days, it's like GOLD! Seriously, love you guys!**_

_**Here's the next chapter. Was supposed to be the second half of the last chapter, but it was just too long. I know it's a little out of format that I'm including lyrics at the beginning of this chapter. It's mentioned in the story, but since I can't include the lyrics, it's here for your reference. Anyway, I'll let you read on. There's another A/N at the end!**_

* * *

_You were in college working part-time waiting tables  
_

_Left a small town, never looked back_

_I was a flight risk with a fear of falling_

_Wonderin' why we bother with love if it never lasts_

_..._

_Do you remember we were sitting there by the water?_

_You put your arm around me for the first time_

_You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter_

_You are the best thing that's ever been mine._

_- Taylor Swift, **Mine**_

* * *

_**Chapter 16: **__**Firsts**_

Peeta Mellark was my first kiss. Of course, he wasn't the first boy to kiss me, but he was _my _first kiss. He taught me that it was okay to feel things and act on them. He taught me that my body had a mind of its own. He taught me that letting go can sometimes have the tightest grip on you.

Peeta Mellark was also my first dance. I wasn't counting the dozens of times I've stepped on my father's feet and rode around while he promenaded around the room. I don't know how Peeta was constantly able to pull me out of my head, but somehow I ended up on the dreaded dance floor in spite of my objections.

"I'm telling you, I don't dance," I insisted even though he was already pulling me towards the raised parquet floor situated in the middle of the beach. I added in a whisper, "I don't know _how_ to dance."

He looked at me with incredulity. "Have you ever tried?"

"Well… no. But it's one of those purposeless talents," I replied defensively. "It's celebratory and hedonistic, and I just don't see the point in writhing and gyrating my body in strange ways to mind-numbing, annoying pop songs."

Peeta cocked his head and gave me one of his irresistible pursed-lipped smirks. "You think that's all dancing is? _Writhing _and_ gyrations_?" We both looked around at the likes of Cato, Clove, Thresh, Larissa, Brutus, Enobaria, and a several others under the dim lights of the dozen or so paper lanterns strung across the floor, grinding their hips to the beat of some obnoxious Ke$ha song. "Okay, _sometimes_ it is, but not always."

Thankfully, the DJ faded to a slower tempo song that invited some of the more restrained guests to finally join in on the dancing. With everyone else crowded on the floor, busy concentrating on their own movements, I felt a little less self-conscious. Peeta slid a hand behind my hip and, with the other, slowly lifted my hand. He placed a soft kiss on my fingers before pulling me in closer to his body.

"I-I don't really know… what do I do?" I asked, my body rigid in his hands.

He leaned in so his lips brushed against my ear. "Relax." I lowered my shoulders, and released some of my muscles. "Now close your eyes, and let the music guide you."

I leaned against him and followed his movements. It wasn't the easiest rhythm to follow, but at least it didn't require much more than a breezy sway. Over the sound system the strumming of an acoustic guitar emanated through, followed by the voice of Taylor Swift singing "Mine." I'd heard the song many times before, but for some reason, the lyrics were shouting out at me and my body went stiff again.

"Hey, sssh, relax, Katniss," Peeta prodded again.

Was he not listening to these lyrics? Did he not hear it speaking directly to us? Could he not hear my voice saying these words to him?

I had two instincts at that moments – one was to run before I fell too deep and the other was to hold on tighter. I was much better at the first option. I began to pull away, but Peeta held me firmly in his arms. His eyes shined down at me, full of sincerity and admiration. What did he see? I wasn't beautiful or charismatic. I wasn't kind or open. And yet, he looked at me like I was all of those things. For the first time, I ignored my predisposition to flee. Instead, I threw my arms around his neck, clutching him as securely as possible so neither of us had the capacity to move to the music.

"Katniss? Is everything okay?" Peeta's voice asked through the veil of hair I had covered his face with.

I nodded glumly. "Just hold me, would you?"

As the crowd around us continued to sway and undulate around us, Peeta held me steady and strong. Surrendering to him was always a dichotomy of emotions – I felt simultaneously safe and out of control.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked me, his voice full of concern. "Do you want to go?"

Not that I was particularly fond of this type of social gathering, but I knew that, as the victors of the triathlon, we had an unspoken obligation to attend for a respectable portion of the dance. Besides, I could enjoy just about anything if Peeta was in my company (as evident in our janitor closet make out session).

I replied with a shake of my head. "No, we can stay."

Peeta's sympathetic expression transformed into a mischievous one. "Good. 'Cause I've yet to teach you how to dance to a fast song."

"Ohhh, no! This is where I draw the line!" I started to push away from him, heading in the direction of the dessert table, but he pulled me back.

"Please, Katniss? C'mon, I ventured into choppy waters for you; the least you can do is move your feet side to side," he teased. I cocked my eyebrows at him as I was rendered speechless at his use of his near drowning as a bargaining chip. "Okay, bad example."

"No, I think that's a _great _example of how disastrous entering new territory can be." I crossed my arms in obstinacy, growing ever more uneasy about the next song that had once again driven a good half of the guests off the dance floor. The other, rambunctious half cheered excitedly as they pumped their arms and jumped up and down.

Peeta gave up begging and decided he'd just embarrass me into submission. He began dancing overzealously to the tune of "Party Rock Anthem", shuffling his feet and rocking his butt in my direction.

"C'mon, Katniss! You know you wanna dance with _this_!" Peeta ran his hands sensually from his head and down his chest as he rolled his body. I was truly beginning to get embarrassed for him.

"Dear god, please stop," I begged him. Instead, Peeta stepped it up a notch, pumping his fists in front of his chest and thrusting his pelvis towards my unyielding stance. "OKAY!" I shouted in surrender. "If I dance with you, will you knock off the Chippendale routine?"

He stopped immediately, grinning widely from ear to ear. "Yes." I rolled my eyes and smacked him on the shoulder. "All you gotta do is step to the side, then touch with the other foot." We looked down to the floor as I mimicked his feet, unenthused. "Then step the other way and touch the other foot. Good." I felt like a complete idiot. "To the tempo now. Step, touch. Step, touch. Step, touch. See? Dancing's not so hard."

"Wait, so is this before or after the writhing and gyrating?" I teased.

Peeta chuckled and played along. "After the writhing, but just before you start gyrating."

It wasn't too hard, actually. But I was fairly sure that what I was doing didn't remotely resemble actual dancing. Peeta took my hands and guided them into some semblance of rhythm while I continued the simple footsteps.

Before the end of the song, everyone had somehow morphed into a large circle with each person taking individual turns to perform a solo in the center. Obviously, I passed on the opportunity, but Peeta boldly took center stage and wowed everyone with some complex breakdance moves, triggering applause all around.

"Wow, impressive," I praised him sincerely, heading to the safety of the dessert table. "Where'd you learn to move like that?"

Peeta pulled his tie to loosen the knot. "Which ones – my b-boy moves or Chippendale?" My face flushed a deep shade of red as I grabbed a plateful of assorted cookies and mini pastries just to distract myself from him. "I've always loved dancing. Mostly, I just learned by watching people, but my buddy, Trace – you met him – he taught me some of the breakdancing moves."

"If memory serves me, you were a hot mess playing DDR with Prim."

He smiled guiltily, putting a finger up to his lips. "Shh. Don't tell Prim I let her win."

"Hmm, learn something new about you everyday," I said, stuffing my mouth with a petit four. "Plays the guitar, bakes – these are delicious, by the way – dances…"

"So do you have any secret talents I've yet to see?" Peeta asked curiously.

I stopped to consider his question before proudly announcing, "I can burp the alphabet."

"Ooh, _this_ I've gotta hear!" I shook my head and laughed. "So, what do you say we get out of here and just spend some me and you time together?"

Peeta took hold of my hand and led me back in the direction of my bungalow. "And do what? Listen to me burp the alphabet?"

"You can burp the entire white pages if you want," he said waggling his eyebrows suggestively at me while he placed his cardigan over my shoulders. "As long as you're with me."

We continued to stroll in blissful silence back to my place when an idea occurred to me.

"Hey, Peeta?"I stopped at a fork in the walkway. "Can I…do you think… maybe we can just go back to your room instead?"

"Sure," he replied in a somewhat confused tone. "But don't you have your place to yourself tonight?"

"Yeah, but…" My heart began pounding in my chest. "My mom usually gets home really early in the morning and I…" I was terrified to ask him, afraid he'd get the wrong idea of what I actually wanted from him. "I want to stay with you tonight."

Peeta just stood there , quietly processing my request. "So you mean, you don't want me to be at your place when your mom gets home?" I nodded timidly. "Um, yeah. Of course you can stay with me. If that's what you want."

I suddenly felt compelled to clarify myself before going to his room to avoid any awkward expectations. "I-I don't mean that I want to… y'know, _do_ stuff or anything. I just want to be close to you. That's all."

"Of course." He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, placing a chaste kiss on my forehead. "But, Katniss?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to explain that to me," he said reassuringly. "I don't expect that from you, y'know. I just want to be close to you, too, but… sex is not on my agenda right now. We're still just figuring 'us' out and I'm not that kind of guy."

I nodded again. "I know."

"Do you? Because I want you to feel safe with me." His eyes seemed to be pleading for my understanding.

"I do feel safe with you, Peeta." And that was the truth.

* * *

After changing into one of Peeta's pajama shirts and he into the matching bottoms, we snuggled in his bed watching _Dirty Dancing_ on DVD. (Yes, Peeta owned the DVD of _Dirty Dancing _and, yes, he knew most of the moves.) When the end credits were rolling, we discussed the parallels between the movie and our reality – family vacation at Kellerman's resort and my tenure at Sunset Shores, her father a doctor and my mother a nurse, Peeta's dance skills versus Patrick Swayze's. Even though I denied any possibility of ever being Peeta's dance partner, he still insisted on calling me 'Baby.'

"Don't you dare, Peeta!" I warned him. "I hate pet names." I pinched the side of his bare torso.

"Ow!" he laughed. "Okay!" He rubbed the skin I had nipped then reciprocated the offense.

He hit an especially sensitive spot, resulting in an all out tickle war.

In the midst of a mutual fit of uncontrollable giggles, I called out, "I surrender! Stop!"

Peeta was hovering over me, our legs tangle up in knots. I clutched the back of his neck and pulled his mouth to mine. We kissed heavily until we needed to stop for air. Both chests were heaving against each other. I ran my hand down the smoothness of his exposed chest before wrapping my arms and legs around him. His hands clutched my bare thighs, inching their way up while our lips crashed together hungrily.

"Katniss," he breathed raggedly. "We should stop before I can't keep my promise to you."

Peeta reluctantly rolled himself away, groaning in disappointed. I leaned back, readjusting the shirt so it covered as much as it could. We both laid there, a couple feet apart, catching our breaths and replaying in our minds what could have occurred.

"I'm sorry I got –" he started to say.

"Stop apologizing." I rolled back in his direction, settling myself under his arm, and rested my head against his chest. "It's as much my fault as it is yours."

We were silent for quite some time. He stared at the ceiling fan while he traced circles on my back and I did the same on his chest.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Hey, you wanna play a game?"

I stopped my mindless finger sketching to look him in the eye. "That sounds counterproductive."

"Dirty," he chuckled. "Not _that_ kind of game. I'm talking about 20 questions."

Before I could answer, I yawned involuntarily. "20? _Each_? Can we make it ten? I don't know how much longer I can stay awake."

"Sure. You first," he offered, sliding himself down so he was lying on his side, face to face with me.

"Mmm," I searched for a question. "What's your favorite animal?"

"Really? _That's _your question?" he teased. "Probably… squirrels."

"Squirrels? They're vicious little creatures!"

"What?" he asked innocently. "I like things that are cute _and_ feisty! Okay, my turn… um, name one thing on your bucket list."

"Hmm… I don't have an official bucket list, but before I die, I'd love to skydive," I told him. "Well, actually, I'd love to be able to fly, but since that's not a realistic answer, I guess falling from the sky is close enough. Sometimes I wish I could be a bird. Be free."

"You can be as free as you allow yourself to be, Katniss." His piercing blue eyes bore into mine.

I averted my gaze, unable to withstand the gravity of his. "Alright, my question now. Let's see… what is your most memorable childhood dream?"

"That's easy," he replied. "This." My brows furrowed in confusion. "You. Being with you."

Peeta leaned in and kissed me – a slow burning kiss that melted me thoroughly to my core.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" I sighed.

"Is that your next question?"

I opened my eyes in surprise. "Depends. Is there an actual answer to that question?"

"Practice," he answered with a shrug.

I leaned away from him, eying him suspiciously. "'Practice' as in kissing the back of your arm or lots of girls?" Peeta just laughed in response, putting me on edge. "How many girls have you dated?"

"Like, how many _dates_ have I been on or how many _girlfriends_ have I had?" he asked, amusement smeared all over his face. My expression was the complete opposite. "Okay, okay. If it makes you happy, I've gone on a few dates since I moved here – none before then. And I have one psycho ex-girlfriend."

"Do I know any of these girls?" I don't know why I was getting so upset and jealous. It's not like I expected Peeta to be uncharted territory – that, just because I was his first crush, I was his only. He was a handsome, talented, and kind-hearted guy. Girls were throwing themselves at him. "Just please don't tell me you ever dated _Glimmer._"

Peeta raised his eyebrows like a child who was just caught stealing a cookie. "That would be the one."

"_She was your first girlfriend?!"_ I shouted incredulously, shuddering with disgust.

Peeta shrugged defensively. "What? It was freshmen year, I was new here and she was throwing herself at me. If it makes you feel any better, it only took me two weeks to realize she was cray-cray and I broke it off with her."

"So was she your first?" I probed.

"Yeah, I already said she was my first and only official girlfriend."

"No, I mean, was she your _'first'_?"

When realization hit him, his eyes bulged. "What? NO! Gosh, no! I didn't even _think_ about having sex with Glimmer."

"So are you still a… you know?" I dared to ask.

"Hey, why do you get to ask all the questions? I thought we were taking turns."

"Fine. Ask away. I've got nothing to hide. In fact, save yourself the question, 'cause I'm still a virgin," I told him smugly, rolling onto my back and casually placing my hands under my head.

"Okay, then who was your first kiss?" he asked.

Darn. I hesitated before realizing that we were under full disclosure. "Gale," I mumbled through clenched teeth.

"Ah-hah! See? I knew there was something between you two," he said, propping himself up on his elbows and wagging an accusing finger at me.

"There's _nothing_ between us. I didn't lie. He was nothing more than my best friend." This game was quickly heating up into a full-blown argument.

"A kiss isn't nothing, Katniss. Maybe to you, he's just your best friend, but I don't think Gale Hawthorne thinks so."

My defenses were rising at an alarming rate. "Who are you to psychoanalyze my friendship with Gale? What if I started suspecting you and Delly of having a 'thing'? Did you ever kiss _her_?" It was a rhetorical question, really. I didn't expect an actual answer from Peeta, let alone the one he gave me.

"Yes. Yes, I have. As a matter of fact, she was _my_ first kiss." My jaw went slack for a second before I tightened it up again. His expression and voice softened. "When I first moved here, Uncle Haymitch introduced us and she was really nice. We hit it off, I asked her out. We went on _one_ date, kissed at the end, and then realized we were just meant to be friends. End of story."

I didn't respond for a few minutes, giving myself time to calm down and think rationally.

"The night before I left to come here, I went to say goodbye to Gale. He kissed me by surprise. I didn't really return the kiss. Or maybe a little… I don't really know, it happened so fast. Then I left. End of story, okay?"

"Okay."

"Are we done playing this game?" I asked exasperatedly.

Peeta nodded and sidled up next to me again. I leaned back against his chest, his chin resting on my head. He draped his arms around my waist before we fell asleep wrapped up in one another's arms. It might have been our best night's sleep except for the looming thought that plagued us both.

We both knew it wasn't really the end of the story.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Another rollercoaster ride! I love taking these two through highs and lows! First kisses, first dances, first dates, first girlfriend, first argument… sorry, no "first time." That would have been very unrealistic for these two._

_I realize that the song "Mine" by Taylor Swift is not a slow dance song, but think more of the Glee version of it that's slower and more acoustic. :) I was listening to that song a few days ago and it sounded so perfect. Couldn't get it out of my head, so it made it into the story._

_Hope you enjoyed it or even if you didn't….__**leave a REVIEW **__and tell me why! I truly enjoy hearing your thoughts._

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters or concepts. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I do not own the rights to the song lyrics for "Mine". _


	17. Chapter 17: Family Affairs

_**A/N - **_ _Gah! Got a little stuck on this chapter. I had a cake job this week for a beach themed bridal shower. Had to channel my inner-Peeta (thinking about Finnick & Annie's wedding cake). Wasn't quite that elaborate, but it did have the blues, the sand, and seashells. Speaking of channeling my inner-Peeta, like my new avatar? Yes, that's one of my cakes (sans blood splatter), but I just love that quote from the book. Okay, I need to shut up. My author's notes are turning into a 'dear diary'._

_This story has about 2-3 more chapters after this one. I'm also trying to finish the opening one-shot so I can post it before this story's done. AUs have so much more flexibility. Who knew it would be so much more difficult to write something in line with canon! I've read the trilogy a total of 3x but I had to do all this research just to figure out how old they'd be in my story! So much for shutting up…._

* * *

_**Chapter 17 –**__**Family Affairs**_

A loud, demanding knock woke us up with a start. My eyelids flew open and my heart skipped a beat when I found myself still curled up against Peeta, the morning light already filtering through the slit in the curtains. I had somehow turned over in the night and splayed myself across his torso, my arm resting over his abs, my head lying in a pool of my own drool in the valley of his defined chest muscles. My bare leg had comfortably hooked over his. Peeta's hands were clutching me by my ribs where my borrowed nightshirt had hiked itself up.

"PEETA!" a gruff voice called from the other side of the shared door between Peeta's and the adjoining room.

I pushed myself up, quickly swiping my cheek with one cuff of my shirt and Peeta's glistening chest with the other sleeve. He peered down as I did this, chuckling at my expense.

"So you're a drooler?" he teased.

"Yeah, well... You're a snorer!" I countered.

The hammering on the door continued. "I know you're in there! Open up!"

Peeta tossed the blanket aside and reluctantly climbed out of bed to answer the door. He grumbled something to himself about how it better be important or he'd be very upset about being forced out of bed.

He unlatched the top lock, then paused to turn back to me before opening the door. "You better cover up. Unless you want your boss to see you in your skivvies," he said with a smirk.

I quickly complied, pulling the blanket up over my head. Peeta hesitated then opened the door to his belligerent uncle.

"It's about time!" Haymitch grunted, leaning himself against the doorframe dividing their two bedrooms. "What took you so long?"

"Drunk before 9 AM, Uncle Haymitch?" Peeta assessed. "Classy."

"Don't start with me, kid," Haymitch said, poking Peeta in the chest. He stuck his head in to survey the room. "Well, hello 'Pot'! Are you going to invite your Uncle 'Kettle' into your room or what?"

_What was Haymitch talking about?_

"What are you talking about?" Peeta asked, mimicking my thoughts.

When Peeta failed to step aside for him, Haymitch pushed his way in. "You have some nerve preaching to me about my affairs while you're sleeping around with the _help._ Katniss, I know you're under there. You can come out!"

I slowly pulled the covers off my head and scowled at Haymitch. "Really, Haymitch? 'The help'? Aren't we all?"

"You don't need to insult Katniss," Peeta insisted. "A – We're not 'sleeping together.' She just slept here. B – Even if we were, I wouldn't be wrecking any homes by doing so. And C – Why are you even here?"

Haymitch turned back to me. "Katniss, dear, would you mind giving my nephew and me a minute?"

I didn't know what to do. I was still sitting in Peeta's bed, dressed in nothing but a nightshirt and my underwear. The blanket was my only line of defense and I wasn't willing to compromise our claim that we did not have sex by showing Haymitch my state of undress.

"Umm…"

"Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Katniss," Peeta said coming to my rescue. "If this is about the files, she's already seen them all."

The older man eyed me, ascertaining whether or not I could be trusted. Still unnerved by his presence, I tucked my knees up to my chest and pulled the blanket more securely around me. I suppose Haymitch decided I was fit for his inner circle since he eventually sunk himself into the desk chair without further argument. Thankfully, after grabbing a t-shirt from his drawer and throwing it on, Peeta joined me on the bed, sitting across his uncle.

"Alright, well let me just explain some things first." Haymitch ran a hand nervously through his matted hair. "When I signed on to do that movie with Eliza, I had absolutely no intention of pursuing her. Not only was she married but she was married to the _director _of the film. It was Seneca's suggestion that we try to bond with one another so we can deliver a more genuine performance – method acting, if you will. So we started spending more time together. She came over one night to rehearse some scenes, we had a little too much wine and before we knew it, we were waking up together." Judging by his inability to look up at us, Haymitch clearly had a lot of shame in rehashing the affair. "I wish I could say that it was a one time thing. That we just made a heat-of-the-moment mistake, but unfortunately it wasn't. We _thought_ we were doing a pretty good job of keeping it discreet. We never knew that Seneca had found out about it. When they pulled the plug on the film, and my investment was lost, I never even thought to suspect him of foul play. As far as I knew, he didn't have a motive. Now I see that he knew more than he let on."

"So you think he embezzled the money you invested?" Peeta asked.

"I've got someone looking into it. But yeah… looks like it," Haymitch answered woefully.

"Do you think there's enough evidence in those files to convict him?" I interjected. Even though my curiosity was piqued, I couldn't deny that my interest in the situation was mainly rooted in my fear of my own involvement in the acquisition of the evidence.

"There's definitely enough to open up a formal investigation," Haymitch replied. He stood up from the swivel chair and ran his hand down the front of his face. "Anyway, you kids did a good thing. I don't know how you did it, but you might have just saved my ass."

Haymitch turned to the door to head back to his room. "A 'thank you' or 'I'm sorry' would suffice," Peeta called out after him.

His uncle laughs. "Yeah, good luck with that!"

When the door shut and Peeta reset the locks, I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Peeta quickly rejoined me on the bed, crawling over to where I was still sitting under the blanket.

"Man, I thought he'd never leave," Peeta huffed as he leaned in to kiss my neck.

"Oh my gosh, I was so mortified," I admitted to him. "I'm not even wearing pants! I don't even want to know where his 'Hollywood mentality' could have wandered to."

Peeta tossed the covers aside and lunged towards me. "I don't know about him, but I know where _my_ mind is wandering."

He got one kiss in, before I rolled myself out of his bed and began mining the floor for my – rather, Madge's - discarded dress.

"I should get going. I don't want my mom to discover me missing," I said as I stepped into the yellow fabric and slid it up underneath the nightshirt.

Peeta's eyebrows furrowed. "Um, okay… this isn't about that whole Glimmer and Delly thing last night, is it?"

I slipped my arms craftily out of the pajama sleeves and into the dress before zipping it up under the shelter of the oversized shirt. "No, I just need to go before the club gets crowded and I have to do the whole 'walk of shame'." I unbuttoned Peeta's shirt and handed it back to him. "But you know, come to think of it, I'm not too sure I want to be kissing lips that have been who-knows-how-many different places."

The look on his face said he wasn't the least bit amused by my low-blow joke. Probably because jokes like that always had a hint of truth to them.

"You've got to be kidding me," he retorted.

"I am." I kissed him apologetically on the cheek while I slipped my shoes onto my feet. "We'll talk later. I gotta go."

* * *

On one of my mother's rare days off, she and Prim decided to have a "California celebration" in honor of Prim's birthday. Her birthday wasn't for a couple more weeks, but she wanted to celebrate it while we were still in Los Angeles. They had gone back and forth between going to the Santa Monica Pier, Disneyland, or a party at our grandparents' house. Ultimately, finances proved to be the deciding factor and Prim settled on a simple bonfire on the beach. I had insisted on footing the bill to go somewhere special, arguing that I don't like to let Prim "settle" when she could do something extraordinary, but being the ever mindful soul that she is, she maintained we make it a small, but characteristically Californian occasion.

Peeta and I had gone to the store to stock up on hot dogs, buns, corn on the cob, marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers. Prim was sweet enough to invite him to join us in the celebration and Peeta, of course, kindly accepted. She told me to invite Madge and Delly as well, but Madge had a ballet recital that night and Delly had a date. Naturally, Rue showed up with her neighbor friend, Celeste, who had also been part of their slumber party the other night.

We set up camp a couple hours before sunset, hauling wood pallets and beach chairs to the fire pit area. While Peeta and my mother worked on getting the fire going, Prim and I followed Rue and Celeste out to the water where they showed us how to boogie-board. It was an exhilarating feeling letting the waving drive us back to shore. It took some practice for Prim and me to get the timing right on catching a wave as it crested, but once we got the hang of it, we were relentless. As I was gliding back to shore on my tenth run, Peeta stood calf-deep in the water, awaiting my return.

"You're like a kid in a candy store," he said. "You should've picked this up months ago."

I stood up, tugging on the leash to bring the board back into my hands. "Tell me about it. It's so much fun," I gushed. "You wanna give it a try?"

Peeta's face blanched. "You're kidding, right? You really want me to get back out there?"

"Oh, come on. You only have to go about chest deep and you'll have the board to hang on to. It's like a floatation device – despite the warning on the bottom. I promise to keep a close watch on you this time," I urged.

Peeta rolled his eyes in defeat, grabbing the extra board that Rue had left on the sand. We went several more rounds, paddling out and riding back, paddling out and riding back, until dusk began to creep in and we had worked up an appetite. When we had all returned to our fire pit, Peeta grabbed hold of my hand and leaned in to kiss me. I quickly ducked my head to evade his efforts. I made a slight gesture in my mother's direction hoping he'd catch on to my reason for avoiding public displays of affection.

If he didn't notice, my mother certainly did. "It's nothing I haven't seen before, Katniss," she said with a knowing smirk.

My cheeks burned from the scorching combination of embarrassment and the proximity of the flames. Thankfully, Peeta didn't pressure me or make any overtly affectionate advances that night. We all continued to chat while we stuffed ourselves with charred food. When we could no longer eat another bite, my mom took out a tray of cupcakes with tiny candles rooted into their tops prompting a round of synchronized groans.

"As good as those look, Mom, I don't think we can eat them right now!" Prim cried.

"Well, you don't have to eat it now! I just want us to sing 'Happy Birthday' before we forget," our mother explained.

"Oh!" Peeta interjected. "Let me help with that." He reached behind his seat and unlatched his guitar case, which I had oddly failed to notice.

Peeta gave the instrument a few practice strums while my mother carefully lit all the candles.

"Okay, ready?"

Prim seated herself in front of the cupcakes and Peeta began playing the familiar tune.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Priiiim! Happy birthday to you!" we all sang in semi-unison (honestly, what is so difficult about that song to sing?).

Prim shut her eyes as she made her heartfelt wish and blew out all thirteen candles while Peeta continued to play softly in the background.

I loved when Peeta played the guitar. At first the memories it conjured up of my father serenading our family were painful, but I had begun to realize that remembering my dad was the best way to honor him. At my mother's request, Peeta played Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight".

I remembered a couple months after he passed away, I had snuck out of my room in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. I found my mother in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket and watching a home video from their wedding day. On the screen was a younger, more carefree version of my mom dressed in a knee length white dress, dancing with my father for the first time as a married couple. That was the last time I had heard that song.

I watched my mom's face as she listened to Peeta's gentle strum. Her eyes were glazed with dammed up tears, but a reminiscent smile danced on her lips. We had all come a long way from the paralyzed bereaved we once were remembering my dad. Where weakness once overtook my mother, now a strength was found. I hadn't sung in so long. That, too, was something I had only kept for my father. But in this moment, I also felt the courage to commemorate him.

The words were not all familiar to me. It had been years since I heard them, but a verse came to mind and I sang it. For my mother. Her tears trickled down her face as she reached to squeeze my hand in approval. One look at Prim, and I could see the pride swelling on her face. She was the only one with the privilege of hearing me sing these past few years. I only did it for her and only on the nights she had trouble sleeping, just to calm her and lull her back to sleep.

"Thank you, Peeta. That was quite special," Mom said earnestly. "Where did you learn to play so well?"

Peeta leaned his old guitar against the vacant folding chair beside him. "Aw, my dad bought me this old thing years ago after he saw me ogling those musicians on MTV. I was probably about 12 or so when I got my first lesson."

"How nice. I don't know if Katniss ever told you her father was also an avid guitar player," she told him.

"Yes, she did mention that," Peeta replied, looking at me with sympathy.

Prim giggled. "Hey, remember when Dad used to play the guitar and sing to us. Then he used to say, 'Just you wait – one day I'm going to be famous! Someday you'll see the name – '"

"'COLLIN JAMES EVERDEEN in lights!'" my mother and I said in unison with Prim, swiping our hands across the air as our father once did to demonstrate the splendor of a marquee.

All of us laughed at the memory. Then it grew silent for a moment as if we were giving reverence to the mention of his name.

"Wait, what did you say his name was?" Peeta asked, interrupting the momentary stillness.

"Collin James Everdeen," I repeated, my voice rising with question.

Peeta began mumbling something to himself as he reached for his guitar. He turned it over to the back side that was covered in random stickers. He ran his fingernail under a Ford logo sticker, picking at the edges until it lifted enough for him to take hold of it. When he peeled the sticker back, it revealed, finely etched in the aged mahogany, the initials 'C.J.E.'

"This may be a coincidence, but…" Peeta began as he showed us the inscription.

I snatched the guitar from his hand and traced my fingers delicately over each letter.

"How did you… where did you get this guitar?" I asked.

Peeta shrugged. "My dad bought it for me years ago. At a pawn shop. The initials were already etched in by the previous owner, but I loved the sound of this guitar so much, I never thought to get a new one. Plus, it's one of the few things my dad's given me."

"This is my father's guitar. I remember him scratching that in!" I said, choking on my emergent sobs. "I didn't want to pawn it off, but I had to. We were going to starve if I didn't."

I felt like I was explaining this more to the ghost of my dad than to anyone else. It was as if I needed to explain to him why I gave up his prized possession.

"You should have it," Peeta told me. "It's rightfully yours."

"Peeta, dear, it's okay. You've had it all these years," my mother replied. "Besides, it connects you to your father too."

"So does a phone call or a plane ticket," he said. "This guitar _is_ very special to me, but it doesn't even compare to what it means to you and your family, Mrs. Everdeen. Please. If I can give you something tangible to hang on to, I want you to have it back."

"Thank you, Peeta!" Prim exclaimed, leaping up to wrap him in a tight embrace. "That's the best birthday present ever!"

Silent tears were streaming steadily down my face. I felt like my father was right there with us. I clutched the neck of the guitar close to my cheek as if, by doing so, I could wrap my arms around my dad's neck as I had before.

"I don't know what to say, Peeta," I finally managed to whisper once I had composed myself. "'Thank you' doesn't seem sufficient."

His arm enveloped me and he leaned in to kiss the tip of my nose. "Seeing you – all of you – happy is more than enough."

"Can we at least pay you for it?" I offered, beginning to feel that burden of debt once again.

Peeta gave me that cautionary look that told me 'don't do that again,' but knowing I would wrestle with it for years, he finally said, "Tell you what. How 'bout you just sing a few more songs?"

* * *

_**Hope to hear some feedback from you! Think we can get to 200 reviews by the end of the story? You've been challenged! Lol**_

_I don't know if ya'll are as sappy as me, but that whole guitar thing came to me out of the blue and after I had typed it out, I read it back to myself and – not gon' lie – I teared up a bit! I like to "bookend" my stories by bringing things from the beginning and repeating those themes towards the end. I doubt anyone remembers that small mention of pawning off the guitar in the first (?) chapter._


	18. Ch 18:Simple Answers to Loaded Questions

_**A/N: **__I'll make this quick – just wanted to give a HUGE thank you to all you wonderful readers who gave me feedback on the last chapter! Amazing… and so helpful and motivating. Love you!_

* * *

_**Chapter 18: Simple Answers to Loaded Questions**_

"Peeta Mellark, did you actually bring me to some cliché make out point?" I asked as he pulled his Jeep into a secluded area overlooking the Los Angeles skyline.

He shifted his car into park and shut the engine off before turning to me with feigned innocence.

"No. I brought you to a nice scenic place you where you can enjoy the view of the west coast and reminisce about your best summer ever. What _you_ do with your time is entirely up to you."

"Well, then…" I cocked one eyebrow up. "If I'm going to reminisce, then I should probably remind myself exactly _why_ this was the best summer ever." Peeta took that as his cue to lean in for a kiss. His eyes fluttered close and his hot breath tickled my cheek. His hand reached up to caress my jawline when I said in a low, seductive voice, "The sunsets, of course."

He was left hanging as I stepped out of his car to perch myself on the warm hood of the Jeep. A disappointed Peeta followed shortly after. He didn't pursue the kiss any further. He just sat quietly next to me allowing me to drink in the smog-tinged sky. I leaned back onto my elbows prompting Peeta to recline himself, his hands linked casually behind his head.

"I miss sunsets back home. The sky would be the most amazing shade of orange. It's my favorite color. All the smog here just makes the sky look all amber and murky," Peeta sighed.

I rolled onto my side, tucking myself under his arm, which he brought down to wrap around my shoulder. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead. I looked up at him in response and shifted myself so I was lying directly on top of him, my chin on his chest.

"You know what my favorite color is?" I asked, but didn't give time for him to answer. "Blue."

"Ah, that's right. You're a water baby," said Peeta with a nod of recognition.

"Nope, not the color of the water."

"The sky? That's not a very original answer," he teased. I felt his hands wrap around my waist, pulling me in tighter, the pads of his thumbs drawing circles on the exposed skin of my midriff, tempting me.

I slid myself up higher on him so that our noses were touching.

"Blue. Like your eyes." I stared deeply into the subject of my comment. "It's my favorite place get lost."

His hand came up and cupped the back of my head, pulling me in the two millimeters needed to close the gap between our lips. He always had the perfect balance of tenderness and passion, but this time felt different. This time, I sensed urgency in his kiss. It was as if he was trying to savor something that was temporary. I responded by deepening the kiss, understanding that our time together was soon running out.

Peeta and I have kissed many times, but never like this. Not even the time in the janitor's closet when we were consumed by our hormones. This time wasn't just about wanting to feel the other's body against our own. This time was about committing every feeling, every sensation, every shape, every texture, and every thought to memory. It was with this hyperawareness of our legs tangled up, the hot and powerful grip of his hands on my back, the fluttering of my loose hairs when his breath wafted over them, that drew my attention to that other sensation. That sensation I had only felt once before. What was this rousing inside me? This alien heat emanated from my core, spreading itself throughout my body and no amount of Peeta could quite satiate the hunger.

"K-Katniss," Peeta muttered breathlessly as he attempted to pull away from me. I pulled him back in, clenching the fabric of his shirt in my balled up fist, measuring the weight of his firm chest against me. "Wait, wait…"

He finally retracted himself from my grasp, his face dripping with regret. I stopped my pursuit to study this expression, the hunger I felt just a second ago now sat like a heavy rock in my stomach.

"What's wrong, Peeta?" I asked, my chest still heaving from shortness of breath.

He rolled himself off of me and resumed his previous position with his hand behind his head, only, his other hand came down to link with mine.

"I just…" he started.

"Peeta, I told you before. This doesn't have to be about s—" My voice caught, too skittish to even say the word out loud. "Well, _you know._"

His hand squeezed mine.

"Yeah, I know. I wasn't _trying _to go there. I mean, I want to – what guy who's been in love with the same girl his whole life wouldn't want to – but I don't want to do that to us."

He was being ambiguous with where he was taking this conversation – this conversation that seemed so important we had to stop kissing to have.

"Peeta, I just want to spend time with you. Before I leave. I can't believe I only have just over a week left here."

"See, that's the thing…" He let go of my hand to turn onto his side, prompting me to do the same. We lay there facing each other, his finger now tracing the features of my face. "You're leaving in a week and I don't know what comes next… for us."

I didn't answer him. I didn't know what _I_ wanted beyond this point. So I said the only thing I was sure of.

"I wish I didn't have to leave."

"What would you want if you weren't leaving?" His voice was gentle, but I couldn't help but feel a great deal of pressure from it.

I sat up again to turn my attention back to the setting sun that was now just a sliver of orange light peeking over the horizon, bidding its final adieus.

"I don't think I can tell you what I would want us to be. I can only say that I'd want to see where it was going?" I was surprised at how easy it was for me to admit this to him. I've never had a relationship before and I never cared to have one. Not after seeing my mother fall apart from losing my father. Not when it took my attention away from taking care of my family. Not when it could lead to something down the road that would only burden me with more that I could manage to care for. But there was something about Peeta that made me feel safe. Or maybe something about our situation that made me feel safe in my openness. Perhaps knowing that this was temporary – that there _was_ no 'down the road' - is what gave me the courage to be vulnerable in his presence.

"Then that's enough for me," he replied. He hopped off the hood of the Jeep and stood in front of me, his arms flanking my legs. The remaining light of the day behind him created a glowing halo around the edges of his blonde curls. His eyes, which were still just about level with mine, mesmerized me in their blue sincerity. "I could go home. We could both go home."

"What?" I was incredulous to say the least. Suddenly, all of my bravado melted away and I couldn't find any answers within me.

"You heard me." He leaned in to plant a kiss on my neck, sending my eyes rolling back and reigniting that fire in my belly. "I'll move back to Detroit too. My family is still there, remember?"

And remember, I did.

"Peeta, you wouldn't do that." He opened his mouth to protest, but I pressed a finger to his lips. "I wouldn't let you. You don't deserve to live in fear of your mother. This is your home now. You're happier and healthier living with Haymitch."

He brushed my loose hair behind my ear and trailed his fingers down my braid. Oh, he's _good. _

"I'm happier and healthier with _you_, Katniss. I'd take a thousand beatings to be near you."

Taking a firm hold of his hands and leaning forward so I was looking him squarely in the eye, I said, "Don't say that, Peeta. Don't put yourself in danger… especially not for me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you did."

He looked away, towards the wisps of clouds that were illuminated by the residual waves of pink and orange light. His eyebrows knitted and I could easily tell he was disappointed this conversation hadn't gone the way he'd planned.

"So that's it? This is all we get? Just this summer?"

"This one amazing summer. Or as you so aptly put it, 'the best summer ever'. It's more than most people get, y'know," I reminded him, trying to pick up the mood. "Now quit sulking and come hug me. I'm getting cold."

We lay on the hood of his car for another half hour under the setting sun, until the last vestige of daylight had completely disappeared and was replaced by the brightness of the moon. We didn't want to drive away from here. Reality had begun to sink in and we knew that once we left this moment, things would no longer be the same for us.

As I pulled Peeta closer, I felt a tremor run through me. "Ooh," I shuddered.

"You feel that too?" Peeta asked.

I propped myself up. "Wait, _you_ felt that?"

Just then, we heard the vibration again. Peeta clutched the pocket of his jacket – the source of the buzzing.

"Heh," he chuckled with a blush. "Just my phone. Hello?" I could hear a faint female voice coming from the earpiece. "Oh, okay… alright, I'll bring her home right away… I'm sorry, Mrs. Everdeen."

I eyed him with surprise as he hung up the phone and tucked it back into his pocket. "What was that about? Why did my mom call you?"

Peeta swung his legs over the side of the car and hopped off the hood. "I don't know. She didn't say, but it sounded urgent. She said we need to go home right away," he replied grabbing my waist to assist me down.

"It's not Prim, is it? Did something happen?" I questioned, my heart descending into my gut.

"I guess we need to go back and find out."

It was only a fifteen minute drive back, but it was far too much time to consider all the dreadful possibilities. When we arrived back at the club, Peeta walked me to the door. My mother was standing in the kitchen nervously preparing two cups of tea. Her eyes met mine and I caught hers flitting across the room to the space behind the open door hidden from my view. Peeta and I cautiously entered the bungalow, wary of what or who we might find.

"Miss Everdeen?" an unfamiliar voice greeted me.

"Yes, officers. This is my daughter, Katniss," my mother interjected. "Katniss, this is Sergeant Purnia and Detective Cray from the LAPD."

Well, _that_ possibility I hadn't considered.

My clammy hand darted towards Peeta's as I scrambled to find refuge from the two police officers. The former was a young blonde woman dressed in her official black police uniform. The latter was an older, rounder, slightly balding man clad in a white shirt and brown blazer. Their faces were not intimidating, but their presence, alone, put me on edge.

"What's this about?" I finally asked. I could actually hear my blood pulsing through my body.

"Is this gentleman here Peeta Mellark?" Detective Cray inquired, nodding in Peeta's direction.

"Yes, sir. I'm Peeta," he answered, his voice far steadier than my own.

"Miss Everdeen and Mr. Mellark, we have received intelligence that the two of you were seen entering a private office at the Arena Pictures Studios headquarters on August 5th," Cray explained. I didn't know if he meant it to be a statement or a question, so I kept quiet before I could incriminate myself. "Am I correct?"

I guess it was a question after all. "Umm… yes, but –"

"Then, will the two of you please come with us back to the precinct for some questioning?" the detective requested. Peeta and I nodded hesitantly. "Mrs. Everdeen, since Katniss is a minor, you'll have to accompany her to the station." He turned to Peeta. "Mr. Mellark, do you have a parent or guardian that can meet you there?"

"Yes," he replied, clearing his throat. "I'll call my Uncle Haymitch."

* * *

The four of us – Haymitch, my mother, Peeta, and I – sat quietly in Detective Cray's musty office waiting for them to come back for our official statements. My legs bobbed up and down uncontrollably while Peeta incessantly tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair.

"So are either of you two going to shed some light on why we're here?" Haymitch asked, his voice dripping with annoyance.

We didn't answer right away, so my mother took the liberty of informing the other adult. "Two officers came to our place looking for Katniss. They said something about receiving surveillance of them entering a private office at Arena Pictures – that's where you went before the race, wasn't it?" she aimed her question at us.

"Yes," I answered simply.

"I don't understand, Katniss," my mother continued. "Why would the two of you go into a private office?"

"I think I know what this was about," Haymitch cut in. "Is that how you two got those files? You went sneaking into Seneca's office?"

"No, we didn't go _sneaking,_" I tried to explain. "We just ended up there and _accidentally_ came across the files." Even I had to admit that sounded implausible at face value.

"Really?" Haymitch leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms. "And how exactly did such serendipity occur?"

"It's kind of a long story – one we'd like to tell just once – so I'd rather just wait until the officers get back," said Peeta.

Haymitch leaned in, his expression bordering indignant. "All I know is, there'd better not be any foul play involved. Otherwise, this could really throw a wrench in the... _investigation_." He shot a look towards my mother who silently furrowed her brow. She didn't question Haymitch, but I could tell she wasn't happy with the severity of my involvement. "They could throw out the evidence if they think it was forged or tampered with, y'know."

The door opened and Cray entered with Sergeant Purnia.

"Alright, kids. As I was saying, we received some surveillance video of the two of you entering – somewhat unconventionally – into a private office without permission. Do you realize that that can qualify as breaking and entering?" Cray explained.

"Yes, sir," Peeta and I both answered cooperatively. Peeta added, "But it was sort of an accident. We didn't mean to…"

"Well, judging by what happens after the entry, it looksa little like maybe you had _some_ intentions in that room. Care to explain?"

"Let me," I interrupted, putting my hand on Peeta's to stop him. I continued to give our account of the group photo, the prank the others had pulled on us, and getting locked in the closet (leaving out some of the more intimate details, of course). "I saw a vent on the ceiling, so I had Peeta boost me up. I crawled through until I got to the nearest vent cover and I went through it. I didn't know what room I was going to end up in, nor did I have any agenda when I entered it except to free us from the closet. If you watched the surveillance, you probably saw me falling from the open vent and inadvertently knocking over the file cabinet on my way down. I left to get Peeta out of the closet, but I just brought him back to help me clean up the mess I made."

I decided to leave it there and not voluntarily disclose the part about taking the files.

"That's a very farfetched story, Miss Everdeen, don't you think?" Cray asked.

Heat began to rise in my cheeks at his implication. "Well, if you bother to get other videos around the floor, you'd probably find that it's actually true – farfetched as it may sound. We were tricked… and assaulted, for that matter, so why don't you get Cato, Clove, and Marvel in here for questioning?"

"Katniss…" my mother's voice quietly warned me.

"We will look into that, Miss Everdeen," Purnia said.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add to your testimony?" Cray asked condescendingly. "Or maybe it would be more appropriate to ask Mr. Mellark here. You're the one that looked to have some interest in what you found there."

Peeta rubbed at his chin, giving Haymitch a sideways glance before responding. "When I came back to help Katniss clean up, I saw that some of the items that were in the scattered files pertained to my uncle." He gestured towards Haymitch. "Private photos, bank statements… Seneca Crane has a history with my uncle. One that includes Haymitch going bankrupt, so I took the file thinking maybe it might prove Crane had something to do with it."

"And where are these files now?" Cray pressed.

"The kids gave it to me," Haymitch answered. "And I took them to Detective Darius over at the precinct on Culver."

Cray looked at Haymitch surprised. "Hmm. Alright, well, I'll get in contact with Darius. This might be bigger than breaking and entering or even petty theft."

My mother quickly cut in. "Wait, so are you saying that these kids can be facing criminal charges?"

Cray took a deep breath. "We'll look into the other surveillance tapes first and bring in the other kids for questioning. If they can corroborate your daughter's story, then she won't be facing any charges," he explained then looked at Haymitch and Peeta. "On the other hand, the video we do have clearly shows Mr. Mellark taking personal property from the premises, so it really depends on how the situation pans out with Seneca Crane. Although, since he is still a minor and the property was turned over to the police, I doubt the punishment will be too severe. He'll probably just have to do some community service."

"Thank you, Detective," my mother said with relief.

"You're all free to go for now. But I wouldn't leave town or anything until all this gets sorted out."

My mother and I looked concernedly at one another. "Detective, our family is only here on temporary assignment. We're scheduled to be going back home to Detroit in a week," she told him.

"Well, hopefully you can postpone you trip until we can get this straightened out," Cray replied. "Who knows? It could all get fleshed out before you need to leave. But I wouldn't start packing just yet."

We all stood to leave, wordlessly exiting the detective's office. When we stepped outside the precinct, my mother spun around to Peeta and Haymitch, an uncharacteristic fire blazing in her eyes. "How could you get my daughter involved in something of this caliber without consulting me first?"

"Mom, this wasn't exactly a situation where I could ask your permission first. We were already there, and my story is the truth. We got thrown into it. We didn't mean to 'get involved'!" I tried to argue with her.

She took a step toward Haymitch, pointing an accusing finger at him. "But _you_, Mr. Abernathy, knew the extent to which these _files_ were of the criminal nature and you allowed a 16-year-old girl to play a secret part in it. Did you ever once think that maybe someone else's tail was on the line?"

Haymitch opened his mouth to retaliate, but Peeta stepped in. "Mrs. Everdeen, it's my fault. It's all my fault," he said apologetically.

"Peeta…" I began.

"No, it's _my_ fault for taking those files in the first place. Katniss advised against it, but all I could think about was saving my uncle. It's my fault for getting her involved. I wasn't thinking when I let her in on what the situation was about. It was stupid and careless of me and I'm sorry. I should have left her out of it…"

Haymitch snorted. "I told you so."

"Katniss," my mother's voice commanded icily. "Let's go."

She began walking in the opposite direction, but I called after her. "Mom! Mom, come back!" She turned back to me, still dazed with fury. "We rode with Peeta."

"Then we'll take the bus," she countered. I gave her a pleading look and she eventually gave in, still giving us all the cold shoulder.

The car ride home, needless to say, was quiet and awkward. There was a lot on my mind that I wanted to say, but kept to myself instead. I wanted to apologize to Peeta for what my mom said to him. Tell him that I didn't blame him. I wanted to tell my mom that it was my responsibility to come and talk to her, but I hadn't felt the need to. Most of all, I wanted to share my secret celebration, despite the circumstances, that I might not be leaving in a week after all.

* * *

_**A/N #2 –**__ And the plot thickens… hehe. Sometimes I wish I didn't start some storylines just coz I hate having to conclude them! Blah… So how long will the Everdeens have to stick around? Or will Peeta really follow her home? Hmm...what does their future hold?_

_Hey, question – When/if I do a sequel to this, do you think it's bad form to change from first-person POV on here to third-person POV in the sequel? It's just that sometimes I want to follow what another character is doing or thinking, but it's not when Katniss is necessarily around to witness it. Maybe, in theory, it doesn't seem like a big deal, but try to imagine reading this and then moving onto the sequel and no longer being in Katniss' head or reading "I…" Would that be too weird?_

_Also, if you're interested in the upcoming story I'm doing about the end of Mockingjay and/or the eventual sequel to this, make sure to follow me so you can get the alert when it's up! Thanks!_

_Now spare me one more minute and tell me what you think of this chapter! Review, please! :)_


	19. Chapter 19: There's No Place Like Home

_**A/N: **__ Say whaaat? We reached 200 reviews! Awww… you guys are too awesome! Or as my 2-year-old says, "You off-tum!" Thank you to those who responded to my question about POV. _

* * *

_**Chapter 19: There's No Place Like Home**_

The past 72 hours had gone by like a rollercoaster ride. After the visit to the police station, my mother and I sat down and had a long talk. I managed to apologize for not being forthcoming about getting involved in Haymitch's affairs. Though I never had any intention of confiding in her, I didn't want her to place all the blame on Peeta and Haymitch.

She had told me that she wouldn't be able to stay indefinitely because she had to get back to her job in Detroit and enroll Prim into the local middle school before the school year began. It was decided that I would stay with my grandparents while I awaited the investigation process, and she and Prim would head home as scheduled. I would follow once I was no longer needed.

I had resigned from my lifeguard position at the club, but Peeta had been so busy pulling multiple shifts that we hardly spent any time together. It was just as well, since my mom was still a little upset with him and I wasn't quite sure where we stood the closer my exodus got. Just when a false sense of security had settled itself between us and we started feeling like maybe we had more time together, I received a phone call from Detective Cray.

Cato, Clove, and Marvel had been brought in for questioning. They each initially denied the prank, but they weren't smart enough to come up with a mutually fabricated story. Eventually, after Cray showed them the surveillance footage in the corridor, they were forced to admit their conspiracy. Cato and Clove were consequently disqualified from the race. Not that it mattered much since the investigation of Seneca Crane had put a freeze on all his assets – including the money going to and from the Cornucopia Project foundation. Cray's call was intended to inform me that my testimony checked out and nothing more was needed from me besides my written statement.

My mood plummeted in less than two days' time. So here I was, packing up my few belongings, preparing to head back to the place I had called home my entire life. My mom was still at the hospital, so Peeta came over between his shifts to help me pack.

"Man, this sucks," Peeta said pulling hangers out of my clothes and handing them to me to fold. "That was such a tease." His bottom lip stuck out in an emphatic pout.

"I know it wasn't a permanent solution," I added. "But I at least thought it would buy me another week here."

"Do you miss home?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, of course I miss it – I miss going out on my own and knowing my way around, I miss people being polite on the road, I miss old Greasy Sae's mystery slop in the school cafeteria, I miss my friends…" Peeta cocked an eyebrow at me. "Okay, so I don't really have many friends to miss, but I do miss knowing the people around me and not always being the foreigner. I'd rather be ignored than bullied."

"Do you miss Gale?"

Gale being my only true friend back home, it seemed like it went without saying. Yes, I missed him. But the fact that Peeta was asking me specifically about Gale, I knew he wasn't asking if I missed doing the paper route with him.

I paused before answering quietly, "Well, of course I miss him. I haven't even talked to him all summer."

Peeta's expression was serious – bordering on sullen. "How do you think it'll be when you get home? I mean, between you and Gale?"

"Why? Are you getting jealous?" I teased, although he clearly was not in the mood for teasing.

Peeta tossed several hangers onto the closet floor. "C'mon, Katniss. He kissed you before you left, you ignored him all summer while you had a _thing_ with another guy, and you think it's not going to be awkward when you get back?"

I was fully aware it was going to be awkward. I didn't need reminding. That's a major reason I wasn't in a hurry to go back. It's not that I didn't yearn for my best friend's companionship, I just didn't know what I was going back to – Gale, my friend or Gale, my suitor. It was hard enough to face when I thought Gale had changed without notice. But now, three months had gone by and, well, _I've_ changed. What did that mean for Gale and me?

And then there was Peeta. I didn't know what this was we were doing – dating, fooling around, starting a relationship? I told myself that it didn't matter because there was no time to define it. But then, what would I do when I get home? Would we keep in touch? Would we remain friends? A long-distance relationship was out of the question.

"I don't know, Peeta," I replied with exasperation. "I figured I'd just cross that bridge when I get there."

Peeta nodded and shrugged in concession, then picked up the guitar case, flipping up the latches. "I should probably say goodbye to this little lady, too."

I laughed at his personification of the instrument. I walked over to the tall triathlon trophy standing in the corner of the room. "Yeah, I should probably give this big guy here some parting words too, 'cause I'm not going to drag this thing through airport security!"

"You'd probably have to buy a separate plane ticket for that behemoth!" Peeta jested, plucking the guitar string a couple times before closing the case once more. "I'll come pick it up after work. But I should get going. My restaurant shift starts in fifteen minutes."

"You're not too scared to come over when my mom's home?" I asked teasingly.

"Ooh, good point. How about you leave it out on the porch for me?" We laughed as he gave me a quick kiss before getting up to go.

Prim and I spent the next two hours packing up whatever we didn't need for our last four days. I could tell Prim was especially sad to be leaving. She could really make friends wherever she was and she genuinely had many to miss back home, but I knew she had formed a bond with Rue that was unlike any others.

"You bummed about going home?" I asked her.

Prim shrugged. "Yeah. I know this was sort of a vacation, but I really like it here."

"You and Rue can be pen pals," I suggested, trying to brighten up Prim's mood.

She eyes me curiously. "What's a pen pal?"

I laughed at her naiveté. I guess I couldn't blame her. She wasn't exactly growing up in a pen and paper age. "It's when you write letters – with a pen or pencil – and send it in an envelope to a friend that's far away then they write letters back."

Her eyes bugged out. "Doesn't that take longer than just e-mailing or Skyping?"

It was so obvious to Prim that it made me feel ancient to have even suggested such an archaic form of communication.

"Very true, Little Duck."

"Are you going to keep in touch with Peeta when we get back?" she asked innocently.

I got up to get an extra backpack on the top shelf of the closet so she couldn't see my conflicted expression. "Umm… I don't know. Maybe. We'll both be very busy once school starts."

"Are you going to tell Gale about him?" That was an interesting question – one I had been wrestling with all summer. I gave my sister the same answer I had given myself. Nothing. "I like Peeta. I like Gale too. He's like my big brother. I think they can both make you happy."

"That does not help at all, Prim," I replied, laughing for her sake, but internally I was perplexed. "But it doesn't really matter."

We had finally taken a break to eat lunch when our mother came bursting through the doors, frantic and out of breath.

"Katniss! Prim!" she called out, not noticing our presence in the dining room.

"Mom," I answered. "What's the matter? Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

She slid her purse off her shoulder and plunked it on the glass table before sitting across from my sister and me. "Girls, I have some news."

* * *

The phone line rang several times before a disinterested teenage boy picked up on the other end. "Yeah?"

"Umm, Rory?" I asked timidly.

"Yeah, who's this?" I could hear the sounds of automatic weapons and explosions going off in the background and I knew he was too preoccupied with his video games to stay on the line long.

"I-it's Katniss," I replied.

"Who?" I didn't know if he hadn't heard me correctly or if my phone call had become such an unexpected event that he completely forgot about me.

"Katniss," I repeated more loudly. "Is Gale there?"

"No… aww, shoot! Where'd you come from?!" I knew the last part was directed towards his game and not me, so I knew it was futile to try to ask more questions or leave a message with him.

"Alright, I'll try later then. Bye, Rory."

Click. He hung up without a simple 'bye' for courtesy's sake. I don't know if that kid would ever be responsible enough to step up as the man of the house if Gale ever decided to leave for college. Judging by Rory's immature behavior, Gale probably would never leave home. My heart started to ache for him. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. We both did. At one point, we were the other's only refuge. And now, I wasn't going back.

I started to regret the way we left things before I came here. I was kicking myself over the cowardice I maintained all summer long. I put our friendship on the backburner out of my own stupid, selfish fears thinking we'd have all the time in the world to sort it out when I got back. But now… when would I ever see him again? If I had the prize money from the triathlon, I could still use my ticket to fly home and buy another return flight before the school year started, but I wasn't holding out for that to come in any time soon.

An overwhelming guilt and a longing for home I hadn't felt before washed over me. Why did I push Gale away? Because I was adamantly against having anything more than friendship with someone? But this summer, thanks to Peeta, I learned that maybe – just maybe - it wouldn't be such a terrible thing. I don't know if I could have ever felt this way about Gale, but I was certain he loved me and I loved him. I was certain that he understood and accepted me like no one else. He was the one person I knew would not leave. Could I have opened my heart to him? I don't know. The worst part is that I might never know.

"Katniss, are you done with the phone?" Prim shouted from the living room. "I want to call Rue and tell her the good news!"

I slipped on my sandals and ambled towards the front door. "Yeah, I'm done with the phone. If mom's looking for me, tell her I went to the restaurant, okay?"

The restaurant was in between the lunch and dinner rush, so I checked the back kitchen looking for Peeta. Even though I had never worked in the restaurant, the staff was well acquainted with me, having lived and worked at the club as well as spending time with Peeta. My presence in the kitchen no longer fazed them and they carried on with their business of chopping, searing, sautéing, and plating without missing a beat. I found Peeta at his usual spot at the large wooden table near the ovens. His hands and apron were covered in frosting as he meticulously piped a perfect dollop of whipped cream onto individual slices of cheesecake and topping off with chocolate drizzles.

"Mmm, that looks good," I praised him, licking my lips.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" he said, putting the piping bag down to wipe his hands on his apron.

I stuffed my hands into my back pockets, fighting the nerves that suddenly hit me. "I came to tell you something."

Peeta kicked a nearby barstool over to the table and patted the seat, inviting me to sit down. "Sounds important if you came here. I was gonna come over later."

I climbed onto the stool and leaned my elbows on his worktable, ignoring the flour dust that was collecting on the back of my forearms. "I couldn't really wait." I paused to insure I had his undivided attention. "We're staying."

Peeta's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "What? Like _staying _staying?" I nodded in confirmation. "Are you for real? How long?"

"For good." Peeta swept me off the barstool and spun me around in his excitement.

When he finally put me down and gathered his propriety, he asked, "Wait, so what happened? Why the change in plans?"

"My mom was offered a permanent position at the hospital here," I explained to him. "So she's taking it, but now we have to unpack everything we packed earlier!"

"This is for sure now?" he asked skeptically. "I mean, you're not going to call me in four days and tell me you're at the airport about to board a plane to Detroit, right?"

"No," I answered. And the reality really began to sink in. "I'm not going back anymore."

"Well, that's reason to celebrate, don't you think?" He picked up one of the small plates with the rich dessert. "Want one?"

"No, thanks. But I'll take some of that chocolate syrup," I said, eying the enticing bottle of the sweet, brown liquid.

"Sure." Peeta picked up the squirt bottle and suspended it over my open mouth, squeezing the confection onto my tongue. I closed my mouth when I'd had enough, but Peeta gave the bottle a quick, forceful squeeze, effectively spraying my face with running chocolate.

"Peeta!" I screamed. "Oh, so you want to play _that _game, huh?"

I reached across the table for the matching bottle containing the strawberry syrup and held it up menacingly in front of him.

"Are you going to clean that up when you're done?" he challenged.

I made a face of indifference. "I don't work here. It's not _my _problem."

I covered Peeta's hair, face, apron, worktable, and floor with gooey, red liquid. His little corner of the kitchen looked like a gruesome crime scene, and Peeta, the crazed axe murderer. Our little syrup war had escalated into an all out food fight. Before we knew it, we were lying on the floor under a cloud of flour dust, covered in syrup, broken eggs, and powdered sugar and laughing until our sides were sore.

"Umm, Peeta?" a concerned voice called from the other side of the table. "What happened here?"

We quickly erected ourselves, embarrassed of the disaster area we had created. "Oh, Maysilee, I'm so sorry. We got a little carried away," Peeta apologized.

Peeta and I left to shower off, but he promised his supervisor he'd come back right away to clean up the mess we left in the kitchen. We dodged several strange looks on our way back to my bungalow as passersby were most likely wondering if we were bleeding. I licked the two flavors of syrup off my hands while Peeta tried, in vain, to wipe the sugar off his face. He only made matters worse by smearing other ingredients across his cheeks.

"You are so going to get fired!" I ribbed him.

Peeta picked me up from behind, slathering me in the slimy egg yolk that was dripping from his hair. I let out a girlish scream I had no idea was even in me as he carried me flailing about down the walkway. He finally put me down as we approached the stone pavers that led to our front steps.

"You are going to get it, Mellark!" I playfully threatened him. "Next time you come over, I'm making spaghetti, and I red does not look good on you."

I turned to leave Peeta behind and head into the refuge of my bungalow when I saw a figure stand up from the patio chair, waiting for me. I stopped dead in my tracks, taking a moment to process his presence.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Dun-dun-DUUUUUUNNNNNN! So sorry to leave it there. This chapter was supposed to be longer, but it ended up being too long, so I'm splitting it into two shorter chapters. I'll try to get the next half in within the next couple days, but I'm also trying to finish up my new story before I end this._

_Review! Review! Review! You guys got me addicted. It's your fault. ;) _


	20. Chapter 20: Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road

_**A/N: **I just can't go on without thanking you guys for your feedback! I wanted to leave you guys hanging a wee bit longer, but you were all so kind to leave a review that I just couldn't do it! To guest reviewer **Muryum**: Until a wedding? They're modern day 16 year olds! I don't know if I can write years and years of this! lol _

_Happy reading!_

_****__Disclaimer: __I do not own The Hunger games or its original characters. This fiction is for entertainment purposes only._

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_**Chapter 20: Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road**_

No. Way. This had to be a joke. Seriously, did someone sneak a LoJack on me or something? How did they keep finding me?

"_Gale?" _

He dropped his large duffle bag next to his feet and started towards me.

"Catnip! What in the world happened to you?" he asked, assessing my mucky appearance.

I somehow found the proper synapse necessary to move my own feet and met Gale halfway. He held his arms out to invite me into his embrace, which I did reluctantly, but it morphed into an awkward air-hug, back pat in order to avoid transmitting the stickiness that covered me. I felt Gale look up over my shoulder and his body tensed. I pulled away to examine him, brushing off the wayward flour that had transferred to his shirt.

"Uh, kitchen… mishap," I fumbled, still recovering from the shock of discovering him there in the flesh.

His eyes didn't meet mine. Instead, they were fixated on something – or _someone_ – behind me. I followed Gale's quizzical stare. Peeta's face was stoic as he waited on me to initiate an introduction.

"Umm… oh, this is, uh…" My tongue was tied in knots.

"Peeta," Peeta finished for me, holding his hand out to Gale.

Gale studied him, suspicion – or maybe even recognition - flickering in his eyes.

"Gale," he replied, putting his hand out to meet Peeta's handshake but pulling away before coming in contact with the eggy mess.

Peeta retracted his hand and wiped it, bashfully, on the back of his slacks.

"Hawthorne, right?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?" _Please don't tell him you know him, please don't tell him._

"Katniss has talked a lot about you," Peeta replied as if reading the pleading look in my eyes because that wasn't true. I'd hardly mentioned Gale at all except for that time in his room he asked me about him, but I was cautious not to say much. "Well, I'd better shower off and let you two catch up. See you later."

Peeta glanced back towards me to gauge the situation. My pursed lips and rigid stance must have sent him the correct message because he didn't try to give me a kiss before walking away.

"You dating that guy?" Gale asked with his arms crossed icily.

"No, he's just a friend," I replied far too quickly for a lie. I immediately turned to locate Peeta and found him just a few paces away, still within earshot. He had stopped momentarily in his tracks, but didn't glance back in our direction before moving on. _Crap. _"Gale, what are you doing here? Okay, that sounded bad. I'm happy to see you, I am, but…"

"Well, you didn't leave me a phone number. I had to get hold of you somehow, didn't I? Mental telepathy didn't seem to be working," he answered sarcastically, masking his bitterness with a weak attempt at humor.

"So you flew all the way out here?" It was far too reminiscent of the grand gestures in some cheesy, epic romance movie. "How did you know where to find me?"

"Well, I did get your last – albeit _brief_ – email. You said you were staying at the country club. I vaguely remembered the name from when you last called… three months ago."

Gale was my best friend, but he was never one to pull punches. I usually appreciated and admired his frankness, but it was unnerving when it was directed towards me. "Umm…Why don't we go inside?"

* * *

Gale sat stiffly at the dining table, waiting for me to get out of the shower. I padded into the room, wrapping my dripping hair in a plush towel, and took a seat across him. We sat in silence for some time, still trying to reconcile the figurative distance between us despite the lack of physical distance we now had. His eyes flitted to the other end of the dining table, taking notice of the polished trophy.

"What was that for?"

"Oh, umm, I just won this triathlon race they had here," I responded timidly, tucking in the tail of the towel at the nape of my neck.

He brushed his thumb over the engraved nameplate.

"You and Peeta?" My face flushed as I nodded. "Mellark… hey, is he related to Evan Mellark? They sort of look alike." _Of course._ I completely forgot that Gale was in the same class as Peeta's brother. And it was true. Peeta and his older brother were practically twins except for Evan's stockier build and straight hair. I confirmed their relationship. "So Peeta's from Detroit then. What's he doing here?"

"He lives with his uncle here," I replied dismissively, ignoring his raised eyebrows. "Gale, I have something important to tell you. I-I tried calling you…"

"Really? That'd be a first." His biting tone had its intended effect on me.

"Yes, I know, I've been a terrible friend. I totally suck. I'm sorry." It was a miserable attempt at placating him. "But there's something I really need to tell you."

"Go on." Lines formed on Gale forehead and I could tell he was holding his breath and bracing himself for what I was about to say.

"My mom was offered a permanent position here. W-we're not moving back to Michigan," I reluctantly informed him then quickly added, "I promise I'll do a better job of keeping in touch. I'll even save money for a plane ti – "

Gale cut me off with a tight hug, laughing and whooping as if a celebration were in order.

"That's amazing, Catnip! Here I thought I was coming here to see you one last time…"

I was having trouble resolving the discrepancy between the news I just shared and his bizarre reaction.

"What's going on, Gale?"

His smile spread from ear to ear.

"I did it. I got in just like you said," he announced. "USC offered me a full ride! I'll be in California for the next four years!" My mouth hung open as I sat there stunned into silence. "Say something."

"Umm…" I was still at a lost for words. "Congrats. That's… wow."

Thankfully, a key unlocking the door provided me with enough distraction time to mull over the news. My mother and Prim walked into the house, carrying armloads of grocery bags.

"Need some help, Mrs. E?" Gale stood to offer.

The two of them looked up at him in shock and awe, dropping the brown paper bags onto the floor to make room for hugs.

"Gale!" my mother cried before pecking his cheek and squeezing his shoulders. "What is heaven's name are you doing all the way out here?"

"I got a scholarship to a school out here. I'm starting in a couple of weeks," he told her then turned to my sister. "Prim! Oh my, did you grow a few inches this summer? You're almost as tall as Rory!"

My sister's face lit up since Rory was always picking on her, but she gave Gale a playful push on his shoulder. "Hardly."

He scooped her up into a tight embrace. "Oh, by the way, I have a little birthday present for you. Even though it's not until next week…"

"Aww, you didn't have to get me anything, Gale. I already got my birthday wish," she said humbly.

"Really?" I asked. "What did you wish for?"

Prim smiled proudly. "I wished that we'd stay in California."

Gale tugged on one of her braids. "So I have you to thank, then?" He unzipped his duffle bag and retrieved a pink cardboard box with a recognizable gold sticker. "All the more reason you'll love your birthday gift."

"Mellark's Bakery cookies!" Prim exclaimed excitedly as she opened the box. "I missed these! Oh, thank you, Gale! Peeta doesn't make these here. They're his dad's specialty."

Her eyes darted towards me, panic-stricken at what she let slip.

"Peeta bakes too?" Gale asked, keeping his tone casual, then added sarcastically, "Looked like he needs to work on his technique for getting ingredients in the bowl."

Prim cocked her head in confusion.

"Speaking of ingredients," I deflected. "How about we put these groceries away before they go bad?"

We carried the bags to the kitchen, unloading the items onto the countertop while my mother stocked them away.

"Well, I was going to cook some lasagna for dinner, but I think Gale's arrival and scholarship warrants something special, what do you think?" Mom suggested.

"Aw, you don't have to go out of your way, Mrs. E. I don't want to be a burden," Gale replied.

My mother shot him a mock look of reproach. "Gale, you are family. You are _never_ a burden. Come on. Everybody go get dressed. We'll have dinner at the restaurant."

* * *

"Fancy," Gale observed. "Do people actually use this many forks and spoons?"

Prim and I giggled at the lost look in Gale's eyes. "Yeah, I have no idea which utensils does what. I just use one fork the whole meal and keep the others as back up," I told him.

The restaurant was abnormally crowded for a Thursday night. Practically every table was filled with golfers and tourists that recently arrived for a weekend tournament. The wait staff was keeping their cool, but I could tell they were frantically running around trying to please all the entitled patrons.

"I apologize for the wait…" a squeaky clean Peeta said breathlessly as he approached our table, still fumbling with the tie on his apron. "Oh."

"Hello, Peeta," my mother greeted him, politely, but the familiarity she had with him at Prim's bonfire was all but dissolved.

"Hi."

I couldn't help but feel a little hurt by the cold shoulder my mother had been giving to Peeta lately in contrast to the love and acceptance she extended towards Gale. I know it wasn't fair to compare when Gale really has been an honorary Everdeen for five years and Peeta's "lapse in judgment" was still fresh on her mind. It was just adding extra friction to an already tense situation. I felt like I was performing a juggling act with the people in my life, and I was on the verge of dropping the ball.

"I didn't know you were serving tonight," I said to him.

"Well, I wasn't," he replied, pulling out his notepad. "They threw me out here when it became a circus." I nodded and turned my attention back to my menu. "Are we ready to order?"

"Hmm… any recommendations?" Gale asked, eying his own menu with uncertainty.

"The rack of lamb is tonight's special. That's really good," Peeta suggested.

"Nah, I've never really been a fan of lamb."

"Really?" Peeta asked and Gale shook his head. "'Cause sometimes you can not like something your whole life and then suddenly develop a taste for it if it's made right. Personally, I've _always_ loved lamb."

Gale glared at him curiously. That was way too much information for a waiter to share with a patron, so his inference did not evade me.

I cleared my throat exaggeratedly. "I think we just need a few more minutes to decide," I cut in, hoping he'd catch my insinuation.

Peeta stuffed his notepad back into his apron pocket. "Alright. Then I'll be back when you've made your decision." My table companions politely thanked him, but his eyes never left me. I was grateful to have put an end to this passive-aggressive conversation we were privately having between us.

"So Gale, where will you be living?" my mother asked him.

"On campus. In the dorms," he replied. "The scholarship doesn't cover room and board, but I'll be doing some work-study to help pay for that."

"Really… that won't be too much to handle? Your classes, football, and work?" my mother continued to inquire.

"I'm no stranger to hard work," he smiles proudly.

I tuned them out, scanning the room for Peeta who was being ricocheted from table to table. Prim reached for my hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She must have understood my dilemma.

"I need to use the restroom," Prim announced. "Katniss, can you come with me?"

"Sure." I stood to follow Prim.

I overheard Gale say to my mom, "Girls. They always have to go to the restroom in gaggles."

We zigzagged through the occupied tables until we had reached the hallway to the restrooms where Prim pulled me aside.

"You looked like you needed a breather," she stated.

"Yes, I did." I smiled at my sister.

"Gale got you confused?"

"A little bit, yeah."

"Are you upset that he's here?" she asked innocently.

I looked across the room to our table. "No. I'm happy to have my best friend here. I just don't want to ruin things by telling him about Peeta," I admitted. "For some reason, those two just don't coexist in my head."

"Well, maybe you need to talk to Peeta about that," Prim said. "Before he tells Gale to order a 'punch in the face' for dessert!"

I couldn't help but laugh at Prim's semi-joke even though it wasn't really that farfetched. She was so intuitive for her age and I loved the way she put things into perspective – always simple and innocent. Prim made her way back to the table while I waited again for Peeta to come by, just as I had the first night I met him here.

"Peeta?" I stopped him as he passed. "I know you're swamped, but can we talk for a sec?"

He looked around to appraise his responsibilities. "Sure. I have a minute." He leaned against the wall beside me. "I'm sorry for the little jab I took back there. Gale didn't catch on, did he?"

"I don't know. If he did, he hasn't said anything."

"Good."

We were quiet for quite some time and I knew my time was ticking away. "Peeta, I…" I didn't really know what it was I wanted to say to him. "Maybe we just need to… back off a little."

"Back off? What does that even mean?" I could tell he was trying to keep his emotions under control. "Are you thinking of getting together with Gale now?"

"No!" I was offended by his accusation that I could just flip-flop like that. "I just need time to figure things out and it's just so… so _suffocating _with both of you around." I had to stop to recalibrate my rising tone. "I don't even know what _this_ is, Peeta." I gestured between him and me.

"I guess to be fair, we never gave a name to it, did we?" he said dejectedly.

"I didn't expect to get this serious," I told him regretfully. "I never wanted to have a relationship. Not just with you. I mean, I just didn't want one... Ever."

I don't know why I thought that would somehow make him feel better about my personal hang-ups.

"Why did you even get involved with me then?" His voice was rising out of the neutral zone and it caused me to get defensive.

"It's not like I planned it."

"But you certainly had time to think about it, didn't you?"

"I didn't know I'd be staying here!" I blurted out, immediately wanting to take back my words. But it was too late.

He pushed himself off the wall to face me. "So what you're saying is that you only allowed yourself to get involved with me because you knew it wouldn't last beyond summer? So what was all that BS about wanting to see where it would go, huh? Is that the real reason you didn't want me going back to Detroit?" This was the first time I'd seen Peeta livid. The admiration was gone from his blue eyes and in its place, accusation.

"No, of course not. When I found out we were staying, I was happy, remember?"

"So then what changed?" He glanced over my shoulder towards our table. "Never mind. I think I know the answer to that."

"Peeta..." I started to plea, but truthfully, I didn't have anything to refute it.

"It's okay, Katniss. This was supposed to be the end of the line," he admitted. "I shouldn't have expected anything else."

He sidestepped around me and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me exactly where I ask to be – alone.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Yes, you guys were right. It was Gale... duh. You all hate me right now, don't you? Please hold the rotten tomatoes for now! There's one more chapter, so I won't discuss too much until the fat lady's sung._

_The title of this chapter is a couple of things – it's paired with the last chapter since it was originally supposed to be part of chapter 19. So, instead of calling it "There's No Place Like Home, Part 2", I stuck to the Oz theme with "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road". My interpretation of the song (and the movie) is that, you can wander far from home searching for something better and find all these fantastic things, but in the end, long for the simpler times. Does Katniss see Peeta as her Oz, her "Yellow Brick Road"? Hmm… something to think about._

_Hint about the next chapter: It's going to be more of an epilogue-type chapter. Fast forwarding a little and summing up the time that passed. Also, I'm giving myself a 1-week deadline on the one shot. If I don't finish that by next weekend, I'll post the final chapter for this regardless (provided it's complete), but I'd really like to have the one-shot up first. Be on the look out. _


	21. Chapter 21: The Morning After

_**A/N - **Here's a little Thanksgiving gift for you all! My husband's on vacation this week, so lots of family time and little writing time, so I know I won't finish the one-shot at the quality I'd be happy with. I'll just leave this story incomplete and update with an alert (don't worry, I'll take it off after a couple days!)._

_ Here we goooooooo! It's bittersweet to bring this baby to an end. But I love seeing a project come a completion. Hopefully we can take another ride together in a sequel… crossing fingers! _

_**Disclaimer – **__I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or ideas. I wish I did so I could meet Josh Hutcherson and Jennifer Lawrence. But instead, I must settle for using them as my virtual puppets._

* * *

_**Chapter 21: **__**The Morning After**_

It had been nearly a month since Gale's arrival and Peeta's and my – for lack of a better word – _break up._ Peeta and I hadn't seen or spoken to each other since that incident. I saw him once at Seneca Crane's trial when I showed up the day the verdict was being delivered, but he was sitting up front behind Haymitch, and I watched with my mother from the very back of the courtroom. I doubted he even saw me there. I wasn't really there to see him anyway. I just felt the need to find closure with my involvement in the situation. And I suppose I did care about what would eventually happen to Haymitch and Peeta.

The trial and investigation didn't last long. It turned out, the evidence in the folder was pretty incriminating as far as motive and opportunity goes. What wasn't documented in the file was easily traced as the investigators followed the paper trail. Apparently, he had taken Haymitch's investment and hid it in an offshore account. Shortly after, he started the Cornucopia Project in order to launder the funds through the charitable foundation. Due to the overwhelming evidence against him, he eventually changed his plea to 'guilty' and hoped for some kind of bargaining. Crane was officially indicted for embezzlement and money laundering and sentenced to five years in prison; however, due to his guilty plea, he may be up for parole in as early as one year.

After Seneca Crane's assets were liquidated to pay his attorney fees, Haymitch was subsequently recompensed for his previous losses. He was generous enough to designate the money that was donated to the Cornucopia Project towards its intended purpose – funding performing arts in local schools – but he still made out pretty well. At least, he had more than enough to leave his job and his home at the Sunset Shores Country Club, taking Peeta along with him.

That was the last I had heard of either of them. When the trial came to a close, my mother felt badly about having given Haymitch and Peeta such a hard time. Once she was enlightened about the nature of the situation, she understood their secrecy. She sympathized with Peeta's need to look out for his uncle, even going as far as to say that his protectiveness was reminiscent of my own. It was a relief to have her thaw out towards him, but it was really inconsequential at that point.

Gale moved into his on campus dormitory at USC. He chose to major in mechanical engineering – an ambitious feat for a staunch football player, but he said he wanted to have a useful back up plan in case getting drafted after college didn't pan out. He was keeping very busy, so I wasn't seeing much of him either except for his once-a-week visits for dinner.

Gale and I still hadn't discussed the 'incident' before I left for California. It was the big proverbial elephant in the room that we both knew we'd have to address sooner or later, but we had an unspoken understanding that it simply wasn't the time. We needed to rebuild our relationship – make up for lost time and reestablish ourselves in our new setting. Our bond still felt too unstable to start dragging the skeletons out of the closet.

Besides, I was certain moving across the country was going to be a big game-changer for Gale, similar to the way it was for me. Maybe he'd meet a girl in college, fall in love for real, and he and I could just go on being what we were best at. I figured it would be better to let him spread his wings and immerse himself in the independent college experience, before opening up that subject of him and me.

I never told him the extent to which I was involved with Peeta. Judging by the look in Gale's eyes, he probably had his share of suspicions, but it was easier to mask without Peeta around. Or at least it was easier for me to keep a façade with Gale without having to worry about Peeta's feelings about him. Maybe Peeta's disappearance spoke louder about his significance than his presence did. I couldn't be sure what Gale's hunches were since that was another topic from which we made sure to stray.

As for my family, we spent an extra week at the club before we made the move to Victory Village, a "cookie cutter" neighborhood dotted with similarly designed stucco houses capped with clay tile roofs. My grandparents owned a rental property there and, as a concession, my mother agreed to pay them rent to live on our own.

The house was big enough to fit three of our old apartments inside of it. There were four large bedrooms, so Mom, Prim, and I each got our own quarters while the fourth stayed vacant. Initially, my mother offered the downstairs bedroom and bathroom to Gale, but between his work, school, and football schedule, he felt it was more convenient for him to live on campus – much to my own relief.

Our house was sparsely furnished with some extra items my grandparents had and a few we bought ourselves, but generally, it still felt too big and empty for my taste. On the days our mom was working, it felt even more overwhelming. Despite our new arrangements, Prim and I would often wander into the other's room at night and sleep together. Even though we were used to our mother's busy work schedule, we had always had the hustle and bustle of club guests to keep us company. The new living situation felt far more isolated and no less temporary. I knew it would take a while before it felt like a permanent home.

I decided to contribute some of the money I had saved up from lifeguarding to purchase a used car so Mom wouldn't have to take the bus to work and, once I learned to drive, we'd have a way to get around town. In the meantime, my days consisted of sitting at home, watching television or playing board games with my sister, waiting out the last few days before school started. Prim, of course, quickly made friends with the other neighborhood kids, but the only time I went outside of the house was to water the lawn or check the mail.

The thing about these newer home developments was that a dozen houses shared a common mailbox. Ours was about three houses down, so on one particular day, I slipped the small key into my pocket and headed down the street to collect our mail. I didn't expect much besides the usual store advertisements and coupons. I opened the box marked '12' and, as expected, junk mail. A breeze came up and blew a back-to-school postcard out of my hands, sending it into a crevice in the neighbor's fence. I chased it down since it was probably the single item in the mail that was of any relevance.

It was nestled in a thick bed of dandelions, which gave me pause. I vaguely remembered Peeta telling me that dandelions were hard to find here, but even more rare in a neighborhood characteristic of perfectly landscaped and manicured lawns. Certain the homeowners wouldn't mind my taking some of their _weeds_, I took a handful and gave it a gentle tug to loosen them from the earth. I stood there a minute brushing the dirt from their roots and admiring the sunny faces.

"I keep telling the kid to pull out those stupid weeds, but he insists we keep them," a grumpy voice bellowed at me from the other side of the fence. "I'll be damned if the Homeowner's Association starts badgering me about 'em."

My heart skipped a beat as I dared to lift my gaze to him.

"Haymitch?"

The smug drunkard was reclined on a patio swing, already throwing back a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Hey, Sweetheart," he slurred, staggering down the walkway towards me. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Did he just say what I thought he said? "You _live_ here?"

"Yup! Closed escrow a few days ago. Personally, I thought this place was a dump, but my beloved nephew convinced me to downsize my lifestyle until I got 'back into the game' or something to that effect." Haymitch braced himself on the fence and grabbed hold of the stack of mail in my hands and sifted through them. "Ahh… so the Everdeens are our not-so-friendly neighbors, eh?"

I winced and took a step back to avoid the acrid smell on his breath. "So where's Peeta anyway?" I asked, afraid to sound too eager.

Haymitch waved his hand dismissively. "He's got that community service to fulfill. Didn't quite get off as scot-free as you."

"I should go." I snatched my mail back from his possession and turned to go home.

"You could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him," he called after me, effectively stopping me in my tracks. "He's too good for people like us."

"Like _us_? I didn't realize you and I fell into any common categories."

"Sure we do, Sweetheart. You know, cynics that spend our lives screwing up everything good that comes along. Afraid to have what you want because you think it'll all go away…"

"You only believe that because you're a drunk," I said, rolling my eyes at him.

"No, I'm a drunk…" He gulped back his urge to vomit before continuing. "_Because_ that's what I believe. Don't get the two mixed up."

"I'm nothing like you, Haymitch," I spat, my tenacity wavering.

He took a swig of his whiskey. "I hope not. Peeta deserves a lot better than that."

A familiar rumble of an engine grew closer when Peeta's red jeep pulled up and maneuvered into the driveway. My fight or flight reflexes were at a complete malfunction, and I couldn't decide whether it would be better to stay and try to make amends or go back into hiding. Before I could make my stealthy getaway, however, he was already dismounted from his car and heading in Haymitch's and my direction.

"Katniss?" he eyed me curiously.

"Hey, Peet!" Haymitch called out and pointed the butt of his whiskey bottle at me. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

Peeta approached tentatively, as if afraid I'd bolt if he advanced too quickly. "What are you doing here? How'd you know where to find me?"

"Oh, this is a good one," Haymitch said, amused. "You're going to love this, Peeta."

Peeta and I both glared at Haymitch, hinting at him to shut up or leave. Thankfully, he opted for the latter and excused himself to go back into the house under the guise of needing more liquor. Peeta and I were left standing awkwardly at the edge of the yard, waiting for the other to initiate the dreaded conversation.

"So…" Peeta began.

"So… how's community service?" I asked, treading in neutral territory.

He hiked the strap of his backpack higher up on his shoulder. "It's cool. I really like it actually. Hard to believe it's supposed to be punishment."

"Really?" I asked with genuine interest. "You're not just picking up trash on the side of the highway?"

"Nah." He scrunched his eyebrows still avoiding contact with my gaze. "I'm volunteering as a Big Brother to this little 8-year-old boy, Jax. Cool kid."

"Cool." I felt so stupid just standing there, not knowing what else to say. Naturally, I'd want to dispense accolades about Peeta's generosity and humanity, but it just didn't seem like my place anymore. "Umm… congrats," I said awkwardly. "On the trial. And the house, I guess."

He scratched his head nervously and shrugged. "Haymitch probably deserves the congratulations. They're both his windfalls."

"Yeah, but he's got you to thank for both." Peeta simply replied with a nod. I kicked a pebble with my toe. "So it turns out, we're neighbors again."

His face lit up for a split second before returning to its impassiveness. "We are?"

"Yeah, we're just renting a few doors down. Crazy coincidence, huh?"

"I don't really believe in coincidence," he answered. "But yeah, that's pretty crazy."

I understood what he meant about coincidence. Not that I was normally one to put much faith in fate or providence, but even I had to admit that we had both come a long way – in both time and distance – and had our paths cross far too many times to be random.

"Well, you know what I mean." Another uneasy silence followed. Peeta was usually the one who carried the conversations and he always did it with ease. Now I was burdened with the conflicting impulses to both excuse myself as quickly as possible and prolong the conversation as long as I could.

"You got to stay for the harvest after all," Peeta said cryptically.

"What?"

"The dandelions." He pointed to the small bouquet in my hand. "You said you wouldn't be around when the seeds spring up, but you are." He shrugged to show his nonchalance. "I'm glad."

"Oh." I looked down at the flowers then back towards his house. "Is this where you found the one you gave me?"

"Yeah." Again, the awkward hush. "Well, I should head inside," he announced. "Make sure Uncle Haymitch hasn't drowned in his own puke or anything."

"Eww." I grimaced at the imagery. "Alright. I guess I'll… see you around?"

"Yeah, I'll see you." He turned to walk towards his house then back to me. "Hey, if you need a ride to school on Monday… I usually leave around 7:30," he offered. "I mean, if you want."

"Thanks." I smiled back at him. "But I have to walk Prim to her first day."

"Alright," he replied simply then turned again to walk away.

"Maybe Tuesday?" I called after him when he'd already reach the front door.

Peeta nodded before disappearing into the house.

I thought about the summer we had. It went by like a blur and was just now coming to a close, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. It all began 2,300 miles away from where I now stood in a place where I was comfortable and complacent. I had a best friend and a memory of a boy who saved my life, and that was all I needed.

The unexpected journey I had undergone these past four months brought a dichotomy of fondness and regret. It pushed and challenged me beyond my comfort zone, often leaving me to wonder who was staring back at me in the mirror. I wrestled with keeping my integrity, but also realized that change wasn't all bad.

In the end, my fears won out. My fear of change. My fear of not recognizing myself. My fear of not being in control. My fear of disappointing people. My fear of investing in something I cannot keep. My fear of having to _care _about anyone else but my family. My fear of not building my life on the foundation I had spent five years laying down.

Who I am and all I've done has been for one purpose - to survive. It's strange to think that after one summer, I was at a crossroad in my life. Not to decide _who_ to choose, rather, _what_ to choose for myself – to simply survive or to _live._

When I look at the dandelions in my hand, I think that maybe there's still that promise of life, a minute chance, a tiny ember of hope. And maybe, just maybe, that sliver of hope is the only thing that is stronger than my fears.

* * *

_**A/N: **__ Okay, NOW you can all throw your rotten veggies at me! Yes, THAT'S how I ended it – wide open for a sequel, but resolved enough that it can be left at that. That's how THG ended, right? Not with Katniss choosing, but wondering. That was just enough to give the audience hope. And like Snow said in the film – it is the only thing stronger than fear. :) Gotta entice you to stick around for a Part 2!_

_Anyway, this chapter was so titled "The Morning After" which I'm sure you've realized is not __**literally **__the morning after the last chapter ended. The figurative sun set on their summer. It's come to an end, but the end of one day marks the beginning of another. So there's always a morning after to start anew. This will also be the title of the eventual sequel. More likely than not, it won't go up until after the holidays. Hopefully that'll give me enough time to brainstorm, write a couple chapters, and, well, have a life._

_Don't forget to add me – __**Janerey**__ – to your Author Alerts if you want notification of the sequel! **(*EDIT - Sequel is now up! The Morning After)**_

_One last time for old time's sake – give me your review! What did you think of the ending? Be honest… but gentle!_


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